


Dancing With The Stars

by potatomustaches



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Genderfluid, I wrote this ages ago, LGBTQ Character, Love, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Other, Trans Female Character, and this was written around the time that caitlyn jenner transitioned, because wattpad is shit nowadays, but it was only on wattpad, i decided to bring it over on ao3, i used to be obsessed with dwts, like really obsessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 88,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatomustaches/pseuds/potatomustaches
Summary: At first, Harry wasn’t going to take the offer. He’s seen many injuries happen off this show, and he didn’t want to become one of them. And also because he can’t dance, but he would never admit it.But when he’s visited by the girl he was supposed to be paired with, he immediately jumps for the opening.New dancers began to come to the show, which meant a lot of adjusting. Nicolette was okay with that, though; she’s kept the secret this long, how hard could it possibly be?Only, she never realized that it’s not the dancers she has to be afraid of, but the star she gets stuck with.(Or the one where Harry is a solo artist just coming down from his highest peak, and Niall is a male ballerina who's only wish is to be accepted for who he really is: a girl.)(No copyright infringement intended.)30 September 2014 - 12 May 2016





	1. Nice To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> Character Pairings
> 
> Stars – Boys:
> 
> 1) Harry Styles – 22, solo artist
> 
> 2) Zayn Malik – 23, solo artist
> 
> 3) Hal Sparks – 45, actor (Queer As Folk, Lab Rats)
> 
> 4) Jack Antonoff – American musician (lead guitarist of Fun., Bleachers)
> 
> 5) Ryan Lochte – 30, Olympic swimmer
> 
> 6) Mitch Holleman – 20, actor (Reba)
> 
> Stars – Girls:
> 
> 1) Demi Lovato – 22, singer
> 
> 2) Amy Lee – 32, singer of Evanescence
> 
> 3) Lorde – 17, singer
> 
> 4) Kendall Jenner - Reality T.V. star
> 
> 5) Zoe Sugg (Zoella) – 24, YouTuber
> 
> 6) Roseanne Barr – 61, actress (Roseanne)
> 
> Dancers – Boys:
> 
> 1) Louis Tomlinson – Demi Lovato 
> 
> 2) Liam Payne – Amy Lee
> 
> 3) Derek Hough – Lorde
> 
> 4) Henry Byalikov – Kendall Jenner
> 
> 5) Mark Ballas – Zoe Sugg
> 
> 6) Keo Motsepe – Roseanne Barr
> 
> Dancers – Girls:
> 
> 1) Nicolette Janelle Horan/Niall James Horan – Harry Styles.
> 
> 2) Peta Murgatroyd – Zayn Malik
> 
> 3) Lindsay Arnold – Hal Sparks 
> 
> 4) Karina Smirnoff – Jack Antonoff
> 
> 5) Witney Carson – Ryan Lochte
> 
> 6) Sharna Burgess – Mitch Holleman

"How do you usually get ready for a new season?" A new dancer – Liam – runs up to me. I smile lightly; he's exactly how we all were when we first started.

I clear my throat, "It depends; have you already gotten a Star?"

"Of course, yeah! Her name is, uhm... let me check," He disappears, returning with a sheet of paper. "Amy Lee,"

"Gonna have to be more specific there, love,"

"All it says is 'Amy Lee, Evanescence'. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Amy Lee!"

"Have you heard of her? I know I sure as hell haven't,"

I chuckle, taking the paper and setting it on the table. "Yes, I have. She's the singer of the band called Evanescence. I'll have to show them to you one time,"

He sighs, "A singer? Is that good or bad?"

"Depends on who they are as a person. You're just gonna have to wait,"

"Ugh, I hate waiting." He picks the sheet of paper back up, scanning the names once more. "Hey, you're on here too!"

I laugh loudly, "I would hope so, considering I'm also a dancer. So, who's my Star?"

He trails his finger half way across the page. "Looks like we both have singers; Harry Styles."

I smile lightly, although I feel like fainting. I absolutely love Harry Styles, yet at the same time I hate him so much.

"Hey, I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow!" Liam hands me the paper before taking off down the hall. I chuckle, shaking my head from side to side. He's so childish, but somehow he makes it cute.

After he's disappeared out the door, I let out a breath of air. It's always been hard with new dancers, because I don't know who they are as a person either. And taking what I've seen of Liam, he doesn't seem to have a filter.

_-_-_

"Are you sure you want to move to America, Niall? I mean, it's so far away; we'd never get to see you." My mother asks once again. I don't understand why she keeps asking; we're already at the airport.

"Yes, I want to dance," I pause. "And stop calling me Niall, please. That's not my name."

"Oh, honey, but it is your name. And I'd prefer to call you by the name I gave you than the one you think you should be called."

I sigh, "This is another reason I want to leave; you don't accept my choice."

"We do accept your choice," My dad says loudly over the speaker that's just come on. A flight to Tokyo, Japan. "but, you're only 16! It might just be a phase."

"It's not a phase, dad." I turn to look at the board that holds all the flights. "I know who I am, even if no one agrees with me."

_-_-_

"I love her!" Liam exclaims.

"You love who?"

"My Star, she's so sweet! And, surprisingly, she's a good dancer." He's jumping up and down like a school girl with her friends after her crush brushed shoulders with her.

"I like my dancer, too. Demi Lovato – she's hot." Louis perks up.

I laugh, looking over at some other experienced dancers. "Am I the only one that hasn't met my Star yet?"

"Don't worry, babe, I haven't met mine either." Peta walks over and I sling my arm around her shoulder. "Zayn Malik – proper hottie." She fake swoons, fanning her face with her nails dramatically.

"Who's yours, Nic?" Mark asks from the snack table.

"Harry Styles,"

"Uh oh," Witney gasps. "We're going to have a dramatic season this time around."

"How so?" Mark asks with a mouthful of donut balls.

"Well duh, Harry and Zayn's rivalry." Sharna butts in as if it was obvious.

"What rivalry?" I ask.

"You know, the one where Harry and Zayn are both the lead grossing solo artists in the world since 2010? Harry's always managed to come out on top, though, and you can only imagine how jealous Zayn would get. Harry was always just a bit more popular than Zayn. It'll be fun watching the votes go neck and neck all season just because of these two,"

"Yeah, it'll be interesting to see how far these two go, also. I've heard both are pretty useless on their feet." Witney laughs. "Have fun."

Peta and I both stare at each other for a moment, because letting out a long sigh and an exasperated, "Great!" at the same time.

_-_-_

"I wish I had your eyes," Meghan sighs. We're both lying out in my dad's backyard, watching the dark clouds drift by. We know it's going to rain in no less than 5 minutes, but we refuse to get up.

"Why?" I roll over and look at her. She also rolls over, and our small 7 year old bodies squish together awkwardly.

"They're just really pretty." I don't understand why she would want my eyes; her eyes are much prettier. They're a beautiful hazel that always sparkles no matter what the lighting, unlike mine that only seem bright if I'm wearing a certain colour.

"I wish I had yours."

She lies back down, looking back up at the sky. "Thanks, but yours are much prettier. You'd make a really pretty girl, Niall."

I'm about to think about what she said, but suddenly the entire sky seems to erupt into harsh thunderstorm. Instead of running inside, we both jump up and dance in the rain.

_-_-_

"Are you ready to meet your Star, Nicolette?" Alexander – our director – exclaims as we're led up to the large house.

"I guess," I shrug, twirling the umbrella around. I hate England weather.

"His manager told me that he's pretty stand offish when you first meet him, but he'll warm up to you pretty fast." I nod as a reply, because before I can get a word out, Alexander is already pounding on the door.

We stand there awkwardly, with Alexander tapping his left foot and me pulling my dress down further. I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, my black toms splashing the water slightly ever time my toes hit the ground again.

Alexander is just about to reach out and knock again when the door swings open, revealing a tall man in only a t-shirt and boxers. His eyes cloud with confusion for a moment before he's rushing us inside.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't expecting you guys today. Paul told me you were coming next week; I just woke up."

"Its fine," I laugh, before slapping my hand over my mouth with my eyes huge. Laughing was rude, why did I laugh? It wasn't even funny. Okay, maybe it was a little funny, but it's still rude.

Alexander turns to look at me before speaking to Harry. "It's alright; we're a little early anyways. But I must go, I need to go drop off Peta at another Star's house. I'll pick you up later, Nicolette."

I nod, and Alexander leaves the house. I close the umbrella slowly, as if not to make things even more awkward than they already are.

"You have a really pretty name," He blurts. I suppress a laugh, settling for a small grin.

"Thank you,"

"No, I mean, I really like your name. It's really... original."

I try to suppress my laugh again, but fail when a giggle leaves my throat without my permission. He smiles, taking my umbrella and placing the string on a door handle.

"I really like your accent, too. Irish?"

"Yeah. It's probably not as thick anymore; I haven't been back home in six years,"

"Why so long?" His fingers wrap around my wrist and lead me to a larger room. It's then that I take in my surroundings. The walls are painted a maroon colour, with different portraits lining the walls. There's a twisting staircase to my left and a double door room to my right. He leads me down a hallway with a bathroom on one side and a closed door on the other. I'm led into a large kitchen with a dining room on the right and a living area past the dining room.

I'm too busy being nosy that I run right into his chest. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't realize you stopped--" I'm cut off by the sound of his wonderful laughter.

"It's alright, Nicolette. Now, coffee or tea?"

_-_-_

"You can't just choose to be a girl, Niall!" My dad scolds me.

"Yeah, I can. I could get a transplant, I could change my name, I could--"

"You could nothing! The Lord made you a boy because you are meant to be a boy! If you we're supposed to be a girl then he would have made you a girl. Just because you 'don't feel like a boy', doesn't mean you aren't one. You are a boy, and you will remain a boy until the day you die!"

"But that's so unfair! I don't look like a boy, I don't act like a boy, and I'm not a boy! What's outside doesn't define what I am inside and there's nothing you, me, or God could do to change that!"

"You can act like a girl, and you can look like a girl, but I will not sit here and let you become a girl."

"Then I guess I'll have to leave,"

_-_-_

"You're kidding, right?" I laugh loudly, letting myself slip back into my old laughter I used to have.

"No, he literally jumped in the water after it!" Harry's also laughing, but trying to stop but lifting his already cold tea to his lips.

"But it already sank! The ball would already be too far down for him to get it,"

"That wasn't stopping him. He was searching for, like, an hour. When he finally gave up, he ran off and cried. We never got around to finishing that game of golf."

"God, your band is weird. When was this again?"

"A few months ago; we we're in Florida."

"I've always wanted to travel the world like you,"

"How come you don't?"

"Because I'm a dancer."

We both sit there for a while, enjoying the silence. That is, until he says, "Why did you want to be a dancer?"

"I don't know, I guess I've just always enjoyed dancing. I preferred the sport over friends when I was younger."

"Dancing isn't a sport,"

"Yes, it is."

"I call bull shit. Dancing is not a sport,"

"It can make or break a person, you can get scholarships for dancing, and it's physical activity that requires certain uniforms. Just like every other sport. Therefore, dancing is a sport."

"Nope,"

"You won't be saying that once the season starts."


	2. Nice To Meet You

"Nicolette, Stage 4!" Michael orders from the other side of the room. I sigh, setting my cup of tea back on the table.

Today is the first day Stars are allowed to come to the studio, and frankly, this is my least favourite part. People are constantly running around, readying the practice rooms and backstage area to make sure it's spotless. I don't understand why; it's not like it will stay that way. They say it's for first impressions, but, really, what is it we're trying to impress. I mean, the Stars are only just normal people, they just happen to have an abnormal job.

I find it absolutely ridiculous.

But I guess I'm the only one who does.

"Nicolette!" Michael warns.

"I'm going, I'm going. Calm your non-existent tits." I mutter, jogging over to the red door with 'STAGE 4' printed on the front in large, black lettering.

After a few minutes of aimlessly walking around the room, I finally decide to ask someone what exactly I'm in here for.

"Nicolette! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Lillian runs up to my, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the stairs.

"I've been here for, like, 10 minutes. Michael told me to come in here, although, he didn't exactly give me a task I was supposed to complete."

"Yeah, Michael is an idiot. Come with me," She rolls her eyes, heading up the steps to another large door, the only difference is 'DRESSING ROOM 1-6' printed across the front.

"And what are we doing here? Don't you dare say I need to wear a dress to meet the rest of the Stars," I look down at my current attire - a flimsy Boston t-shirt that I got a few years ago, a pair of light skinny jeans, and black converse. Why do we have to look perfect for them on the first day? The only other days they'll ever see me wear anything other than this is on show nights. Geez, you'd think we're meeting the freaking Aztec emperor. Do I need to bow too?

"Of course not, we're just having a few difficulties and we need someone's assistance."

I scoff, "So you thought confronting me? The most tasteless of all girls here?"

"It's not style wise, Nicolette. We just needed someone tall, and you happen to be the tallest person around." Well that's a first, considering I'm actually quite short anyways.

"Oh, okay."

"Good. Now, hold this up as high as you can." She says, shoving an extension cord in one of my hands, and a blow drier in another.

"Uhm, okay."

_-_-_

After a grueling 20 minutes of standing around with my arms raised over my head, I'm finally let out of the dressing rooms. Turns out there was a spark in the elecrical outlet that could have ended badly if we didn't check it out when we did. There was a power shortage due to the fuse box having been tampered with at some point. The entire building could have gone up in flames if we didn't do anything when we did. I'd rather have my arms cramping all day then everyone be hurt and put out for the season.

Currently, I'm wandering around the Main Stage, seating myself in each of the judges chairs and acting each one out. Carrie Ann is too sweet, if you ask me. Len is a freaking ass when he wants to be, but I know he's a real softie off camera. I like Julianne for the pure reason that she's takes sympathy for any injuries, in which I do have quite a history with. And of course for Bruno I didn't even have to sit down to do my reenactment of him.

"You seem to be having fun," Someone calls and I jump up from the chair, my cheeks flushing from having been caught. Derek laughs. "Don't be embarrassed; we've all had a time when we would mimic them."

I sigh, thanking the Lord that it wasn't Louis, who would for sure never let me live this down. Even though I have caught Louis getting pretty into it a time or two.

"Now tell me; is my sister really as sweet as they all make her out to be? I find her to be an absolute bitch when she's judging me,"

I laugh, motioning for Derek to come out from audience seats he's currently hiding in. "She is sweet. I just think it's your interpretation because you're related,"

"That's what they all say," He rolls his eyes as he makes his way down the steps. "But you we're spot on when doing Bruno, especially with the arm motions. I applaud you for that."

"Thank you, thank you." I curtsey to him dramatically, blowing fake kisses out to the non-existent crowd.

He laughs loudly, coming up to me and formally bowing. "Do I dare ask to share a dance?"

"I'd love to," I put my hand out, waiting for him to grab ahold of it before I twirl inwards to him.

"Wait, we need some music," He fumbles with his phone in his pocket. A soft piano begins to play a moment later.

"Ah, Ludovico Einaudi; a classic."

"Not really, but whatever. Now, where were we?"

"I beleive you two were getting your asses back to Stage 3 so we can welcome the Stars. But, y'know, it's your call if you want to be yelled at." Mark calls from the balcony, actively scaring the crap on me.

"What is it with you people scaring the crap out of me today? Jesus!"

Both Derek and Mark burst into laughter, making me mutter a bitter "cunts" under my breath.

After a few more moments of the boys laughing, it eventually dies out until we're left with the quiet piano music still coming from Derek's phone.

"C'mon, let's get back before we actually do get yelled at for begin on the Main Stage after they've literally just finished waxing it." Derek sighs, rubbing his face. "I've missed dancing on this stage, I must admit."

"Yeah, same here." I comment as we all head backstage. It's only silent for a few seconds when we head back, until we're all hit with a loud chorus of "Welcome, to Dancing With The Stars!"

"Shit," Mark mutters.

"We missed it," Derek says next.

"Oh well, there's nothing they can do about it now, now is there?" I shrug, jogging over to the snack table and popping a piece of watermelon in my mouth.

"Good point," Mark joins me, also putting a piece of fruit in his mouth. "Ugh, these are a little dry."

"Then put it back and eat something else," Derek says, stealing the piece of watermelon I was reaching up to put into my mouth.

"Hey!" I playfully glare at him, scrunching my nose up in the process.

"Too late now," He mumbles through a mouthful of the stuff.

"I know, but I still don't like people stealing food I intended on eating. My mother always taught me to share, but she's not here, so I don't give a shit about manners."

"Speaking of mothers," Someone speaks up behind me. I know that voice.

"Meghan!" I yell, dropping the next piece back into the bowl and launching myself at my life long friend.

"Nia--colette! It's so good to see you!" She fumbles, but correctly herself quickly when she feels me tense.

"Yeah! It's been a while,"

"It sure has. What is it now; four, five years?"

"Six, actually. Time flies, doesn't it?"

"Yep, now step back so I can look at you." I comply, smiling at her as she examines me from head to toe. "You sure have changed. I remember your dad saying you'd grow up to be big and strong; he sure was in for a big surprise when he found out what really happened."

"Hey, I'm strong! Look at these leg muscles!" I motion down to my covered bottom half. No, not in a sexual way, just the bottom half of me, period.

"I know, you wouldn't be a dancer without them." She beams up at me, pulling me back in for a hug. A small crowd has formed around us, which is quite weird since the Stars have just arrived. Although, the crowd does consist of a large amount of those Stars.

"You sure as hell know it,"

"Nicolette - god, it feels so weird calling you that - your mam was asking when you would come home."

"Depends; does she accept me for who I am now?"

"Well, uhm, not really. But that's why I'm here--"

"I'm not coming home until she accepts me," I choose my words carefully. I've hid the secret this long, I'm not going to let it out just because my friend from home thought it would be a good idea to visit. "Some goes dad, and Greg, and the rest of my family. Be sure to tell them that when you go back,"

"Nia--"

"Don't call me that. That's not my name." I remove myself from her arms, stepping back.

"You're gonna have to come back at some point, Ni. Your parents still love you, they just don't love your choice."

"They can't love me if they can't accept what I really am. I hope they know, just because they beleive I'm something, doesn't mean I am. I know what I am." I begin to stalk away, my good mood vanishing completely.

_-_-_

The next few hours are spent with me sulking upon the hanging catwalk. I can hear and see everything going on underneath me, and I know that Meghan has left, but I refuse to come down. What if the other dancers question what she was talking about? What if the staff fires me because they figured it out? What if Meghan told them I really am a boy? What if? What if? What if?

If I'm being completely honest, I'm surprised they haven't figured it out before before Meghan decided to pay me a visit. I mean, I haven't had any transplants to give my breasts, or have my penis removed or such. I guess I'm just really good at hiding it. Either that, or they don't pay as much attention to me as I thought they did.

"Excuse me, uhm, I'm looking for my dancer? I've looked all around for her, but she doesn't seem to be here. Is she sick?" I hear someone ask someone else below me, and I can't help but look down and cringe. Harry. I completely forgot about him.

What kind of partner am I?

A shitty one, that's what.

"What's her name, hun? Gonna have to be more specific than just 'she.'" The person he's talking to - I think it's Lillian - chuckles.

"Uhm, Nicolette. Nicolette Horan,"

"Ah, your Nic's partner? I'm sorry to break it to you but I haven't seen her in quite a while. I know she didn't leave, though, if that's any consolation."

"Oh. Thanks anyways," I watch as Harry's face seems to deflate completely.

"But," Lillian stops him from turning away with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Derek knows where she is. They're always getting themselves into trouble together." I see her shake her head. "Yeah, if anyone were to know where she is, my best bet would be Derek."

Harry looks up hopefully, "Do you know where Derek is?"

"He's in Practice Room 9, hun. Just go up two flights of stairs here," She points over to one of the many doors on the left, "and there will be a big brown door with 'Practice Room 9' painted on the front. There should also be a poster of him and his Star's name on the left side."

"Thank you,"

"No problem, hun."

I watch as Harry rushes out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. The fact that he's so set on finding me makes my heart swell, but the grin is quickly wiped off my face when I think back to why I'm up here.

Who does Meghan think she is, coming to my job and telling what I am? She doesn't know shit about me; not anymore, at least. She might have all those years ago, but I've changed a lot since then. Both as a person and with my mindset. I know who I am, even if no one agrees with it.

"I knew I'd find you up here," Louis frightens me out my thoughts. I jump slightly; thankfully this catwalk is secure or else it would have shook.

"H-how did you find me?" I mumble, looking back at the boy.

"I've been here for exactly as long as you, Nicolette. We both hit it off pretty well when we both first started because we didn't know how things worked, so we seeked out into each other as our first friends here. I know you well enough to say that I know all your hiding spots,"

He's right. Louis and I we're extremely awkward when we first started out, so it was only natural for us to become close because we didn't know how to make friends with the experienced dancers. Even as the seasons passed and dancers came and went, we stayed best friends through all the hard ships on the show. Even when we did manage to make friends with the rest of the dancers and crew - me fitting in with the dancers who have been here the longest, like Derek and Mark, and him getting along with the girls and new dancers better - , we never let that tear our friendship apart. We've been there for each other since the beginning, and we'll keep going together until the very end.

"And I also know you well enough to say that your little friend, Meghan or summat, really hit a nerve. I was there, you know, hidden within the midst of the crowd, as you ran off. I gave that girl quite an earful."

I chuckle, picturing Louis waltzing up to Meghan, bursting out at her with a few select words and hand gestures of his own to defend me. "Thank you,"

"No problem. Now, care to explain what she was on about?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Not really."

"Sure, whatever. But just know that I am here if you need to talk, Nic, no matter what it's about. It's all about accepting, yeah?"

"It's just, Meghan knew me before any of you lot did. She was my friend when I was younger, and she's really close to the family. She knew who I was before I came here,"

Louis pulls me towards him by my arms. "And who was it that she knew?" He whispers, treading lightly. I know that he's only asking because he thinks it will help me; I don't have to answer if I don't want to.

But I do decide to answer, "A boy,"

"A boy?" He questions, quirking his head to the side slightly. I know he's probably never had to hear that before, hell, he's probably never even met a transgendered person before me.

"Yeah, a boy. A boy that I'm not. Not anymore, at least." I look down at my lap, playing with one of the belt loops of my pants.

"Oh," Is all I get as a reply. This is exactly how my parents reacted when I first told them I was a girl, except, it involved more yelling afterwards.

But the yelling never came.

Instead, a warm embrace replaces it.

I'm shocked at first, with my arms lying limply at my sides as Louis buries his face into my shoulder. As the initial shock fades, I slowly wrap my arms back around the light haired boy.

"I always knew they was something different about you. I just couldn't place my finger on what it was," Louis pulls back, his eyes seeming to glow as he studies my face. "You're fucking amazing at being a girl though, I must admit. I thought for sure that you really were born as one,"

"You can't tell anyone," I blurt, looking at him wide-eyed.

"Of course, I had a feeling you wanted to keep this a secret. You know, considering your reaction to that little friend showing up." His face crinkles up in disgust. "She sure has no filter, talking to you the way she was. I would have given her a well deserved shove if I wasn't too busy yelling profanities into her ear as you left."

I laugh whole-heartedly, rolling my eyes at Louis. He sure hasn't changed much since he's arrived here, unlike me.

"Now away from all this serious shit. I heard your Star was looking for you, did you know that?" That's another thing I love about Louis; even if the world was ending, he'd still find away to accept it and move on. I can already tell he accepts me for who I am, and now he's ready to move past it.

"Yeah, I heard. He's already wrung out Lillian, now he's gone off to search for Derek to wring him out too." I sigh, running my hand through my hair - an old habit I used to have when I was a boy.

"Or, you know, you could go catch him before he puts poor Derek through that pain?"

"Nah, I feel like being an asshole today."

Louis chuckles, shaking his head at me.

_-_-_

Louis and I continue to sit upon the catwalk for another hour until Louis finally remembers they he also has a Star who he should be with.

"I told her I'd be back in 10 minutes; she probably thinks I ditched her."

"Awe, poor Demi. I feel bad for hogging you from her now. She seems like such a nice girl."

"I know! Thanks, Nic, you ruined my chances with a beautiful lady. I'm never forgiving you!"

"No, what will I ever do to make friends again? I've been left by the most important one! What can I do to make it up to you, oh dearest Louis? What quest must I complete to gain your friendship back?!" I scree dramatically.

"Go find your own partner. Go, peasant, or our friendship will never suffice!"

We both burst into laughter then, enjoying the few hours of a stress-free environment.

"Okay, enough of that. But really, we really do need to go down now," He looks over to the ladder and sighs. "After you, my lady." He bows.

I make it half way down the ladder when realization dawns on me. "Wait, Louis. What if they ask what Meghan was talking about? Oh Jesus, what if they figured it out? What am I supposed to tell them? I don't trust them like I do you, Louis. What if they don't accept me?"

"Hey, hey, calm down. Shh," He pulls me back up the ladder and into his arms. "They haven't figured it out, I promise. Just go about it as if nothing happened, okay? We'll all move on from this faster than you would expect. There's nothing to worry about,"

I look up at him, "Promise?"

"Esimorp,"

"What?"

"Promise spelt backwards," He shrugs. "Now go!"

I sigh, removing myself from his arms and continuing down the ladder until I reach the floor. The season hasn't even started and I've already been confronted by mounds of stress. The Star I'm paired with doesn't really help, either, considering how important he is to almost the entire female population, and a quarter of the male population, too. I'm sure his fans will have my head served on a golden platter if he somehow gets hurt, even if it's not because of me.

Once Louis and I both reach the floor, we start wandering around aimlessly, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Harry or Demi. Surprisingly, no one has confronted us about where we disappeared to, but I guess since the Stars have arrived a lot of people are paying more mind to them than to us.

We come across Demi first.

"Hey, where were you? I've been searching for quite awhile," Demi asks.

"I'm sorry, love, I was just helping my friend, Nicolette, with an electrical problem on the Main Stage. I won't disappear again, promise." Louis lies smoothly.

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm glad you disappeared because you were helping someone out instead of just leaving me," Demi turns to me. "Nice to meet you. Nicolette, was it?"

"Yeah, nice to meet you too. Sorry to cut this greeting short, but I have yet to find my partner anywhere. Did you happen to see Harry Styles around here somewhere?" I ask politely.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. He passed through here quite a while ago; he seemed to be in a bit of a rush. Last I heard, he was in one of the practice rooms."

"Thanks,"

"Gladly." Demi turns back to Louis, asking, "So, when do we get our first dance?"

At that point I'm already walking away, not interested in the conversation anymore.

I spend the next half an hour trekking in and out of different rooms, trying to narrow down where he is. Instead of going straight to the practice rooms, I decided to just check everywhere, mostly because she did say it's been a while since she's seen him.

Over the course of that time I run into almost half of the cast, and they've all said he was in the practice rooms.

Maybe you should just go ahead and check the practice rooms, I think tiredly.

So I do.

And it turns out, he really was there the entire time.

Idiot.

"Hey, I've been looking everywhere for you!" He exclaims as soon as I walk in, jumping up and running over to me.

"I could say the same to you," I laugh, pushing my hair off to the side.

"I showed up kind of late due to my flight being delayed. When I came around, everyone was already paired up, and you were no where to be seen! So, I kind of, maybe, walked in on a few pairs already practicing. Is that bad?" He looks at me with a guilty look in his eye.

"No, it's okay if you walk in on them. We all see each others dances before the show at one point. Speaking of; the first week starts next week, and we just so happen to be stuck with the lovely Argentine Tango. Are you ready to get started?"

He looks at me for a moment, before replying happily, "As long as I don't fall on my face."

"Oh, trust me," I start, thinking about how much of a klutz he is without even realizing. "you definitely will."


	3. Predicaments

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

I sigh, "It's not that many steps!"

"Easy for you to say! Why are we stuck with the hardest dance on the first week?!"

I face-palm, already having a headache start to form. "Do you want me to go get one of the other dancers to do it with me to show you? I'm not supposed to, but we've been practicing for 2 days and you still don't have the first steps memorized."

"Please!"

"Fine, I'll go find Derek." I roll my eyes, heading out of the room.

Of course, not before I hear him grumble, "You're always with Derek,"

I spend the next few minutes wandering around the studio, for his practice room is completely empty.

"Geez, Nic, you're out here more than you are with your Star. Did you two get into a fight?" Zayn comes out of nowhere. I know about his and Harry's rivalry, so I just roll my eyes and walk past him. Shouldn't he be with Peta practicing his own dance?

After 10 minutes of wandering, I don't find Derek, but I do find Louis – sitting in Len's chair. I smirk.

"Having fun getting caught reenacting them?" Louis jumps, actively falling off the chair.

"I-I wasn't reenacting them," Louis stutters, going pink.

"Sure you weren't. Can you come help me?"

He barks out a laugh, "I may be fabulous, but there is no way I could clean up your mess of a fashion sense."

I stalk up to him glaring. "My fashion sense is fine, thank you." Before I can stop myself, my arm is swinging out and punching him in the arm.

"Ow, shit, for the love of all that is holy! God that hurt! I know you used to be a dude, but that wasn't cool, dude." Louis rubs up and down his arm. "Did you take boxing lessons or somethin'?"

"No, I just have strong arms. Deal with it, bitch." I plaster on a wickedly sweet smile. "Now, since you are my lovely best friend and you love doing this lovely best friend lovely favours, could you please come and help me teach Harry how to do this Argentine Tango?"

"Why should I?" He whines.

"Because if you don't, I'll punch you again."

He glares at me, scrunching up his face in discomfort. "Deal with a snobby singing teenage millionaire, or get punched in the shoulder again. Hmmm..." I raise my arm threateningly. "Fine, I'll help you and your clumsy fool of a partner,"

"Leave him alone, Louis. It's only the first week."

"Has he memorized anything?"

"Well," I pause. Harry is absolutely useless on the dance floor. "He knows how to count to eight."

"God dammit, Nicolette! You gotta be more assertive when teaching these people things! You have less than four days to get this dance together, it's the first week, and he knows absolutely nothing. I applaud you."

"Screw you,"

"No thanks, I'm straight."

"Ugh, I give up! I'll go find Mark or something, god dammit. Thanks for nothing, Lewis." I groan, stomping away. I know I'm being really childish, but I really need someone's help. As he said, I have less than four days to teach Harry an entire dance. I've never been in a more stressful season – and the live shows haven't even started yet.

"Nic, wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that. I'll help you, I'm just questioning how showing him is going to teach him. Plus, Demi is going to be here in less than an hour. I might need to cut the lesson short."

"I don't care, just please help me. Please?"

"Fine,"

_-_-_

"Wait, so the dance goes along with the music?" Harry questions after watching Louis and I do the dance about four times.

"Well, not really, but if that's a way for you to remember it, then sure." Louis smiles.

"Can I try? I'll count off aloud,"

"Sure, let's try it. And I'll count aloud."

"Whatever," Harry eyes Louis, as if to say 'please don't judge me if I mess up.' Louis just gives him a thumbs up before mouthing good luck to me and leaving.

"Okay, ready?"

"Yeah," He sets out hands in the rightful position, shuffling back and forth on his feet.

"Don't worry, no one is going to judge you if you mess up."

"But, there's camera's in here,"

"It's also the first week." I remind him. "Look on the Brightside; you haven't fallen on your face yet."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You sure are nothing like any girl I've ever met,"

"You callin' me weird?"

"I am,"

"Fuck you,"

"Language."

_-_-_

It's Sunday now, and thankfully, Harry has finally learned how to do our dance. The only problem is he has trouble with the split second lift. But not because he's afraid I'll hurt him, no, he's afraid he'll hurt me.

"What if I drop you?"

"You haven't before, why would you on stage?"

"My hands will be sweaty, and on that dress you'll be wearing? You'll surely slip."

"I won't slip,"

"What if I hold on too tight?"

"It's not even a big lift!"

"But still! What if my grip is too tight on your waist?"

"It's practically a jump, Harry. Stop worrying about me, and worry about getting all the steps in the right order."

"Are you sure I won't hurt you?"

"Are you sure I won't kill you if you don't shut up?"

"You wouldn't kill me,"

"Same as you won't hurt me. Now, let's practice a few more times before we leave for the night."

"What if I hurt you during the performance? And then you can't dance anymore so we'll end up being eliminated!"

"There's no elimination in the first week,"

"But what about the next week?"

"If I were to get hurt to the point where I can't dance – not that I will –, then I'll just be put out for the season while you will be paired with one of the dancers from The Troope."

"I don't want another dancer!" He yells. "I want you,"

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Please,"

"Please what?"

"Please shut up."

"What if--"

"No! Shut up! Nothing is going to happen! If I felt something would happen, I would be worried. Listen to me when I say nothing is going to happen."

"Promise?"

I smirk, thinking back to what Louis said the other day. "Esimorp."

"Huh?"

"Promise spelt backwards,"

_-_-_

"I'm jealous of you," Greg says to me.

I cock my head to this side, not understanding where this is coming from. "And you barged into my room at midnight to tell me that?" I know now that midnight really isn't that late, but to a 10 year old child, it's like four in the morning.

"I was going through these photo albums," Greg holds up a large red book that is titled 'Niall: 5-9' in red Sharpie on the binding. "and I came across this." He opens it to a seemingly marked page, pointing at a photo of me when I was about 7 on Halloween. I dressed up as Cinderella that year. I can't remember why – I believe mum thought it would be funny to trick her son. Strangely enough, the picture doesn't faze me. Usually I would be blushing and hiding in my pillow, but I just smile brightly – proud of what I became for that one night in 2000.

"What about it?" I take the photo album and run my finger across the see-through protective cover. Meghan and I both went as princesses that year – her as Snow White due to her jet black hair she got cut soon before the night. My mother decided to use temporary hair colouring to give me the bright blonde hair. Now that I think about it, maybe I should colour my hair blonde again. It didn't look too bad back then, why would it now? I'll consider it.

"It's just; you'd make a really pretty girl." I pause from my caressing of the photo, looking up at my brother in bewilderment.

"Yes, because that's absolutely normal to hear from a 16 year old guy. You think everything with no leg hair and chest lumps is considered pretty. I wouldn't make a pretty girl," I roll my eyes, flipping through a few pages before closing the book completely. In all honesty, I know I'd make a good looking girl. Meghan tells me almost every day. People at school always comment about my seemingly girl-like figure and eyes. I don't take it as a way of bullying, but a way of compliment. I find it a compliment to be called a girl, but I'm not exactly sure why. I'm not girl, but why does it feel so right to be called one?

"I'm serious! I mean, just imagine it," He pulls me up to stand in front of my small dresser. He stands behind me and motions from the top of my head past my shoulders. "Imagine having long brown hair with blonde tips. Can you imagine that? I can. What about you wear frilly little dresses, hmm? Maybe I can picture you wearing make-up." I do imagine it, and maybe, just maybe, for one dwindling second, I consider it.

But that train of thought is destroyed when mum comes in, "Aren't you supposed to be in bed? I know it's the weekend, but I don't want you getting your schedule all messed up. That goes for you too, Greg."

She's about to close the door, until I blurt out without thinking, "Mum, can you picture me as a girl?"

"Why would I do that? You're a boy,"

"I know, but just... imagining? Could you picture it?"

She thinks for a moment, letting the door go. "Why, yes. I could. But there's no reason for that, because you're a boy."

And maybe, I think about her reply for a bit too long.

And maybe, I'm not a boy.

_-_-_

"I'm nervous," Harry stutters, grabbing onto my arm and squeezing tightly.

"We all are the first time."

He snorts, "Is that supposed to be some kind of perverted joke to cheer me up?"

"Depends, did it work?"

"Not really."

"Then no." He laughs, releasing my arm. "It seemed to work a little, though."

"Maybe just a little bit," He sighs, looking out over the deck once more. "When do we go on?"

"Ninth,"

"If they think they're saving the best for last, they're wrong."

"We're not going last; Peta is."

"Who's Peta's partner?"

"Zayn,"

"Well, then they we're definitely off on this best for last thing." I laugh whole-heartedly, earning a few chuckles from Harry. "Your laugh is so contagious,"

I slap a hand over my mouth, cutting my laugh off. The last time someone said that to me was when I was a boy. That means...

Dammit, I slipped back into my old obnoxious laugh.

"Awe, don't make it stop! It's cute!" He whines.

"I hate my laugh," I mutter, my mood deteriorating by the second. How could I be so careless? I'm a girl; I can't have such boyish laughter.

"Everybody does. Have you ever seen what I do when I laugh too loudly?"

I try not to laugh again when I think back to all the laughing compilations of him. How he throws his hands over his mouth immediately when the laugh is even the slightest bit of loud is hilarious. I fail, letting a small giggle escape me.

There, that's girly.

"At lease you don't laugh like a witch having an aneurism." I fake pout.

"At least you don't laugh like a pixie getting its wings ripped off." He retorts easily.

"At least neither of you don't laugh like a perverted donkey," Keo butts in from across the balcony.

Harry and I both burst into laughter – me making sure it's not my ugly guy laugh. "What does a perverted donkey even sound like?" Sharna questions.

"Like a pedophile, only donkey-like." I shrug still trying to quiet myself.

"Guys, shhh." Lindsay shushes us, motioning out towards the stage – where Louis and Demi have just been rambled at by a very monotone Len and are on their way up here.

"Why do we have to be quiet?" Harry whispers into my ear when we turn around.

"They're going to be interviewed and then they'll get their scores."

"Oh," Louis and Demi make their way in front of the camera where Erin is waiting with a wide smile. After a moment of us all waiting silently as Demi is asked how she likes her partner so far, what she thought of the dance, etcetera, until Harry leans over again and emits a loud keen from his throat.

I suppress my laughter the best I can, although Louis looks back at us and sends me a glare. "What was that?" I whisper.

"A pedophilic donkey doing the dirty with Bambi," He shrugs nonchalantly, draping an arm around my shoulders.

I can't do it anymore; my obnoxious laugh rings out right after Demi answers the next question with, "I think Louis is a really good looking dancer."

Immediately a hand is slapped over my mouth, and both of mine soon follow. My eyes go wide as I turn to look at the rest of us – everyone is looking at me like I'm crazy. Harry's eyes are wide, too, but they don't hold the fear and embarrassment in them. Instead, it looks more like amusement and adoration. I follow Harry's up raised arm up to my mouth, where I glance back up at Louis and Demi. Louis is sending me a death glare, as if to say 'I'll surgically remove your tongue out through your butthole.'

Once Harry and I both remove our hands from over my gaping mouth, I'm automatically rambling out constant apologies. I've never been disruptive so early during the season – and especially not with my Star. It's usually with Mark and Derek I goof off with, breaking a few score paddles (like, six. At least we didn't break any tens.) along the way.

But as the old saying seems to be in my favour this evening; the show must go on. Louis and Demi get their scores only seconds later, with them coming out with a 23 in all. Three sixes and one five – from Len, of course. Afterwards, Erin repeats their voting number several times because the camera is sent back to Tom. He announces the commercial break, and as soon as the large sign reads "OFF AIR", Louis is tackling me down onto the seat. He pins my wrists up near my head, sitting on my stomach.

Geez, you'd think he's about to make-out with you.

"What the hell, Nicolette Janelle Horan?!" He growls.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to laugh; it just kind of slipped out." I try weakly.

"It was my fault," Harry cuts in quickly, trying to pull Louis off of me.

"No, it was just Nicolette being an asshole to make me look like an idiot. In the first week, too!"

I groan, "Louis, you're overreacting."

Harry somehow gets Louis to free my wrists, but he's still sitting on my stomach. "I don't believe it for a second. Nic has always been one to make me look like a fish in front of the camera. Are you jealous or something? Huh? Why are you always picking on me when the camera is on?"

"I don't--" I cough, trying to allow air flow the best I can. "I don't mean to,"

"Louis, get off her." He doesn't budge. Demi rolls her eyes, "C'mon, don't be all bitter. You and Nicolette are best friends. Don't let one slip up bug you,"

"Apologize," Louis demands.

"I did,"

"Lou. You're being ridiculous." Sharna comments.

"I want a real apology,"

"Louis! You're hurting her!" Harry begs, pulling on Louis arm.

"I'm waiting for an apology," God, he's so freaking stubborn.

"I'm sorry," I cough again, trying to scoot out from under him.

"For?"

Harry face palms, "God dammit, Louis! Get the fuck off 'er! It was my fault, okay? I made her laugh like that. I'm sorry, just, please, get off her."

Louis rolls his eyes but complies, "Why does everyone seem to stick up for you? Why can't you do it yourself?"

I sit up wheezing. Harry is quick to be at my side, rubbing my back as I cough my lungs out. Being restricted from air like that feels like the way it does when someone is constantly tickling you and won't stop for at least 10 minutes. Except, it's much worse because of instead of laughing too much to catch your breath, a 150 pound man is sitting on your chest for two straight minutes.

"Are you okay? He's such an asshole for doing that," Harry asks quickly when I try to stand up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I just need to get some water and walk it off," I mutter, slipping away from Harry's hand still caressing the ridge in my back.

In all reality, I'm really going to find out what Louis problem was. He's never become so mad at me for something so minor. I mean, a few seasons ago I cackled when one of his Stars said he was the straightest dancer there. There has to be a reason.

"Alright. When do you suppose you'll be back?"

"When the next commercial break starts, I guess. After then, I want to practice our dance once more before we go on."

"Okay,"

I walk off to the side behind the curtain, heading for the drink table. I actually really do need something to drink – all that coughing dried my throat up.

Little did I know, an entirely different conversation was going on just past the wall.

"You're such a dick, Louis," Sharna whispers to Louis.

"I'm not really mad, you know that, right?" Louis replies.

"It's obvious, but I don't think Nic, Harry, or Demi realized. Why would you fake something like that?"

"I wanted to see how far that Harry kid would go to protect Nic. He obviously fancies her," Louis rolls his eyes.

Sharna scoffs, "So you tried to kill the girl because someone has a little crush on her? You two aren't even dating! So what if the boy fancies her; she's a beautiful girl, who wouldn't?"

"I don't care if he likes her, I just don't want her to fall for it. You remember Tristan?"

"Yeah, they told us he left because he wanted to do something new."

"He didn't leave; they fired him."

"Why?"

"Turns out, he got a little too intimate with one of the Stars during the season. I don't know if you know, but I know Nic probably doesn't remember, but there's a policy here about relationships between the dancers and the Stars."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that one! It has never really happened before so we've never really had to worry about it, though. At least not a serious relationship." Sharna pauses. "What does that have to do with Nic and Harry, though?"

"It's not really Harry I worry about much, but Nicolette. A Star can have a crush on the dancers all they want; that part doesn't matter. But if a dancers feelings were to be mutual and they were caught doing unprofessional things during their practice times, Nic could be fired."

Sharna's eyebrows furrow, "How do you know?"

Louis paused, looking at Sharna straight in the eye. "Because it almost happened to me."


	4. First Dances

"There's no way we can beat that." Harry frets, after hearing the score of Jack and Karina - the pair who have gone just before us. We're currently standing backstage as a commercial break is announced. "Nope. I'm not even going to attempt."

"Geez, you're making 3 eights, and a seven sound like its easy. I'm sure Karina had to work her butt off to get Jack to that level. Also, their dance was much easier than an Argentine Tango. In fact, I don't understand why we even have an Argentine Tango in the first week; they usually save it for at least after Week 3. The first three dances are generally the Jive, Cha Cha, and Foxtrot in the first week."

"Oh great, they give the clumsiest one the hardest one in the first week. It's rigged, I'm telling you." Harry keeps complaining for another minute until we hear the crowd start screaming again. Harry seems to start shaking even more as he grips my tricep tightly.

"C'mon," I pull him out from behind to curtain and onto the stage once our recap of training this week rolls on camera and to the audience. There's some highlights of both of us getting frustrated - mainly me - and little moments of Harry being his cheeky self. I roll my eyes as Harry takes a picture of the studio in the middle of the routine, as I did the same when it really happened. The audience finds humour in it, though, and it switches to later in the week to when Harry is worrying about the lift.

I glance over to the side of the stage and see Louis glaring at one of the screens, but everyone else smiles and coos. I didn't know what was so adorable at the time.

The voice over calls out, "Dancing the Argentine Tango, Harry Styles and his partner Nicolette Horan,"

Harry and I share a glance across the stage. Harry sends me a smile across the stage as the music begins.

The dance ends seemingly instantaneously, with Harry kissing my cheek on the way over to the judges table.

"I told you you'd do great," I smile.

"It was because of you whispering in my ear the whole time. Thank you," He whispers back.

"Sorry to burst you out of your own little world, but the judges would like to speak to you." Tom places his hand on my shoulder. I flush while Harry laughs. "We'll start with Carrie Ann."

Carrie Ann smiles at us before saying, "First off, you two are great together. The chemistry is almost deafeningly cute. I could see you two dating if you could. Secondly," The audience seems to scream even louder after she says that. I guess the rest of the world ships us also. "you're dancing was wonderful. Really. I'm not just saying it because I think so, I'm sure the rest of the us would agree." The crowd screams again. "There's just one little thing I want to note on; the lift. Harry, you seemed really nervous that you fumbled a bit on your feet." Harry obviously takes it hard when his arm tightens around my waist. It's a bit painful but I don't have the heart to tell him to let go. "But other than that you seemed to do pretty well, considering it's your first week."

The judging moves on to Len. "I have to agree with Carrie Ann on the chemistry. You two have seemed to hit it off since the first day. But I must bring up your movements. The Argentine Tango is a hard dance, I must admit, so I won't go too hard. The dance is all about fluency. You need to look as if you are a natural at it even though you're not; it's just the way the dance works." Len pulls a face as the crowd begins to boo - as they usually do anyways when any of the judges seem too hard on us.

Julianne is the next to talk. "I want to say something directly to Harry; you're clumsy, no doubt about that." I try to suppress my giggle and look up at the boy. He's smirking down at me and it takes me a moment to realise why. He pinches my side before tickling it right after. I laugh a little before slapping his hand off. "And, as they said, your chemistry is unbelievable! I mean, look at you right now." The audience goes wild again. "I really have no comments to add besides the fact that, Harry, you were excessively nervous. A little tip; just try to flow with the music and accept Nicolette's help when she offers."

When we turn to Bruno, he's already standing. "You owned that dance floor tonight and I'm sure everyone agrees that you did phenomenally well for the first week. An Argentine Tango is quite difficult to completely, but you two did it. I must say, though," Bruno motions around the floor with his hand. "you were a bit stiff out there. And of course, everyone is going to be stiff the first week because they're unsure of where they're comfort zone boundaries are, but don't be afraid to step out of that comfort zone every once in a while."

After Bruno finally sits back down, Tom talks to us for a moment before sending us up to the deck, where we meet our rowdy competition and a very smily Erin awaiting us.

We're asked the usual questions and Harry seems to reply honestly. "You had also said you're afraid of dropping our little Nic in the clip; why is that?" Erin asks lastly.

Louis snickers. "'Cause she's fat," I hear him mumble, but only Demi and I can hear it because we're closest I him. I roll my eyes.

"I guess I didn't trust my strength enough. I mean, I've never had really lift a full grown person off the ground while having to remember certain steps and for how long. It was frustrating because I almost dropped her, like, 8 times during practice--"

"But you never did. You always caught me," Louis mockingly coos behind me.

"Alright, let's get your scores." Erin announces and the screen shows us a shot of Carrie Ann.

"Carrie Ann Inaba," Then announcer calls.

Carrie Ann smiles widely before flashing the paddle. "Eight,"

Harry looks down at me, asking with his eyes if that's good. I nod. "Len Goodman,"

"Seven," He announces with a straight face.

"Julianne Hough,"

"Seven,"

"Bruno Tonioli,"

Bruno shrugs slightly as he lifts his paddle, "Eight,"

Harry hugs me tightly as we turn back to Erin. "With a score or 30 out of 40, good job guys." We both nod as I lead Harry and I off camera.

_-_-_

The show ends with Kendall and Henry taking the lead with 34 points and Roseanne and Keo taking last place with 23. Harry and I are in fourth place by the end of the night. The leaderboard doesn't seem too bad, considering it's the first week.

"I almost dropped you," Harry mumbles. "I messed up and I almost dropped you."

I roll my eyes and turn back to Henry, who has been abandoned by his Star backstage while her family congratulates her. Kendall is a really nice girl and she obviously likes the attention she's been getting from being top of the leaderboard.

Henry rolls his eyes - as do I - as Harry starts moaning and groaning about being left out on the conversation. Harry's elbow is resting on my shoulder as he picks through the bowl of bananas.

Henry shrugs, stealing the banana Harry chose from his hands and peeling it.

"Hey! I was gonna eat that," Harry grunts, reaching over to steal the banana back.

Henry bites into the banana and pushes the pouting boy away. "I've listened to you whine and complain for the last hour; I deserve this." He messed up my hair slightly before announcing, "I'm going home. I will see you two tomorrow,"

I frown and pat my hair into place. "What about Kendall?"

"I'll say bye on the way out." He shrugs again, takes the last bite of his banana and throws the peel away.

Henry disappears behind one of the curtains moments later and I turn back to Harry. He's pouting and looking into the banana bowl helplessly.

"It's just a banana, Harry,"

"It's not just a banana! Do you know how long it took to find one that perfect colour and perfect firmness?"

I suppress my giggle at his innuendo and just smile, "Took longer than the resurrection of Christ,"

"Even longer than that!"

We both laugh a bit before I grab a random banana. He makes a look of protest as I thrust the fruit into his hands. "Don't complain, just eat it."

He grumbles something about perfect bananas - therefore the lack of them - before he peels it and takes a bite.

"Why do you eat a banana like that?" I question. He shrugs, taking another bite.

Louis seems to pop up and I'm not sure where, but I don't have enough time to process it as Louis is pulling me away from Harry and those stupid bananas.

Louis continues to drag me all around the studio until he finally seems to make a decision and pulls me into Sharna's practice room. As we both seem to just stand in silence, Louis reaches up and scratches his temple a few times. I blink.

In that split second I blinked, Louis has seemed to get closer to me somehow. He's now almost hovering over me - which is a bit weird considering we're about the same height. The silence is demolished as Louis says, "Are you and Harry dating?"

I stare at him confused for a bit. He's still hovering over me, glancing back and forth between my eyes. As the silence passes and we're left with only the sound of an air conditoner blowing softly in the room.

Once the sience seems to be a bit too much for Louis, he mumbles, "I knew it. But you've only known each other a few weeks! I mean, I know you've always liked him as a celebrity and he was cute and all that stuff, but damn!" His voice gets louder and louder and I think for a second that we're lucky Sharna has already left, along with her Star. "Well, you can't date him--"

It's then that my brain decided to process what he's saying and my lips decide to form words. "We're not dating." Louis stops momentarily, sending me a look of both confusion and anger.

"You're not?"

"Nope," I say followed by a breathy chuckle. "We're not dating."


	5. Sleeping On The Job

"Nic. Nic. Nic. Nicolette. Nic. Nicolette Janelle. Nic." Derek pokes my arm repeatedly. "Nicolette!"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" I yell, startling both him and I. I didn't mean to yell; he's just irritating me.

"Well, yeah. But I wanted to ask you something,"

"You can ask me later; I'm busy." A yawn escapes my lips as I try to sew the stupid shirt.

"No, Harry's gonna be here in a few minutes and all your time will be dedicated to him. What happened to you and me time, huh? I miss that." He glances down at the shirt before looking back up at me. "Why are you knitting a sweater anyways?"

"I am not knitting! I am sewing! Get it right!" In all actuality, I'm extremely grumpy today. My neighbour kept me up all night with his newly born screaming child. Also, I could hear the people having sex in the apartment above me. It was awful.

I really need to move out of that place, and soon. Too bad I'm saving up for a breast transplant.

"Fine, what is it?" I ask, giving up on my task at hand. There's no way I'll be able to fix this damn shirt with Derek pestering me with Harry on the way.

"Why are you knitting a sweater?" He asks innocently.

"I am not knitting a damn sweater!" I yell, holding up the needle. I act as if I'm about to throw it at him, but I'm cut off.

"Hey, Ni." I freeze this time, automatically registering the nick-name. Harry comes up from behind and hugs me, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Hi. Why did you call me... uhm - did you call me Ni?" I stutter.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it? You don't like it?" He moves to crouch in front of me.

"No-no, it's not that. My friends back home used to call me that. I guess it just triggered some, uh - memories."

His face has contorted into one of confusion and sadness, "Sorry, do you not want me to call you that anymore?"

"No! It's fine, really. It's just a bit weird hearing people call me that besides them."

He smiles this time, "Well, I'm you're friend, so I think I earned the right to call you that."

"You have." I look up at Derek - he's looking down at Harry with a smirk. I roll my eyes; Derek wants me to date everyone.

"So," Harry's smile grows when I pull him up by the wrist. "wanna get started on this week's practice?"

_-_-_

This week's dance is much easier then last week's. I still don't understand why they had given us one of the hardest dances the first week, but I can't really complain because now Harry is getting much better. This week we have the foxtrot.

It's been a couple hours since we've started practicing, which means a couple more hours I've gone without sleep. I've been awake for over 30 hours, how am I still standing upright?

"Ni? Are you okay?" Harry asks when I finish showing him a different piece of the dance. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Damn it, I knew this was gonna happen! Now you're gonna--"

"Harry, you didn't hurt me." I try to yell, but it comes out in a low-pitched mumble.

"Then what's wrong?" I close my eyes and place my cheek against the wall.

"Just a bit tired, s'all. I just need some water and I'll be fine." I say, trying to reach to the ground where my water bottle is. I fail to reach it without bending. I know if I bend over I'll fall down, and I'd rather not do that. Not before Harry does, anyways.

"Why don't you go on home and take a nap then?" He reaches down and grabs my water for me. Instead of handing it to me like I had suspected he would, he uncaps it and pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder as I finally get the bottle out of his grip and bring it to my lips.

"It's my job, Harry. I can't just leave," I sigh, running a hand along the nape of my neck.

"But, everyone else does. I mean, we don't have to practice here all the time." At that moment, a camera crew decides to come into our room and pester us. I roll my eyes and take another gulp of the water.

"I know, but I just prefer to practice here. There's not much space in the flat I live in, and I have a feeling there's too many people around you half the time to get anything done at yours."

"There's a bunch of space! Don't always assume things, Ni. C'mon, I'll let you take a nap on the way there." Harry grins excitedly, taking my hand in his. "Plus, you can't get distracted by Louis or Derek at mine."

I roll my eyes, picking up my bag off the floor. The camera crew follows us out of the room and around the studio, until we finally disappear from their view when we exit the building. Once I know we're out of ear-shot, I say, "You know, they prefer us to parctice in the practice rooms so they can get video footage of us."

"They set up cameras in our houses that only the owner of the place can turn on. I'll turn them on when we get there and start practicing."

"Wow, I never knew that. All my Stars always preferred to dance in the practice room."

"Looks like I'm pretty special then," Harry smiles cheekily. I shove him a little, caysing him to swerve off to the side before bouncing back, due to his hand still being intertwined with mine. I roll my eyes - I seem to do the gesture more often than not when I'm around Harry.

"Don't always assume things, Harold." I use his earlier words.

"Well then, don't I feel loved." We both get in the car and start driving to Harry's place. I actually don't know where he's staying, I thought he just stayed in a hotel the whole time. My theory is quickly shot down when Harry pulls into a private neighbourhood.3

"You seriously live in a house in LA?" I mutter in disbelief. He sends me a confused look, nodding slowly. "You don't even live in this country!" I hate rich people.

"No, I don't. But I come here enough to be able to own a house out here. I'd get so sick of staying in hotels all the time."

"I hate rich people," I voice my thoughts.

"Wow, thanks for the stereotype." He actually looks a bit hurt, even though what he said was sarcastic.

"No, I don't mean it like - ugh." I groan. "I don't like the stereotypical rick person. Y'know, the one who throws their money around all willy-nilly just because they can. It makes me feel like a lower-class citizen, considering I live in a small apartment that I can barely pay the bills for in the first place." I sigh, trying to get my point across without offending him further. "I know you're not like that, but sometimes rich people get on my nerves. Like, you don't need 3 houses all in different countries. There's some celebrities that own numerous houses, while people in Africa and India sleep in a box if they're lucky."

My ramble has now turned into me just complaining about all the things I hate about society - going from topics like homsexuality, to homeless teens on the street. I hate when this happens, because it usually leads me to the one thing I hate about society that involves me: transgendered people.

"...and the fact that some people frown on others for being who they think they are sucks. It really does. They don't know what it's like; the struggles they go through daily to appear normal. How they try so hard to fit in with their desired gender, only to be laughed at and mocked if they make one little slip up! How sometimes, even our own parents don't call us by our real name because they don't agree with you!" Harry has already led me into his house and sat me down. I now have a cup of tea and a plate of Nilla wafers sitting in front of me, not that I've touched them at any point. Harry is sitting on the other side of the couch, while I'm curled up against the edge of the cushion with my arms around my legs.

Surprisingly, he hasn't interrupted me. He's let me go off for about 10 minutes now, while he just stares at me with a look of fascination. But I wish he did interrupt me, because if I keep going, I know I'll reveal some secrets I didn't want him to know.

That's why when I feel myself getting ready to scream out how unfair that my parents don't even call me by my own name, my real name, I pick up the cup and gulp down about half the cup.

My name is Nicolette Horan. I am a girl. I keep repeating in my head as the tea leaves a trail of stinging and burning flesh down my throat.

We both sit in silence for a few more minutes. I drink my tea while nibbling on a few Nilla wafers, actively getting a few crumbs on my loose sweat pants. Harry is still looking at me, but now he has his phone out. He only glances down for a few seconds and clicks a few things on the screen. "I just turned the cameras on. Do you want to get started on practicing?"

_-_-_

Hey, Ni?" Meghan comes up and hugs me. "How's the dress shopping going?"

I push another dress on the rack. The hanger emits a loud scree when it scratches against the metal bar, causing Meghan to cringe. "Not well." The twelve year old version of me sighs. "Maggie wouldn't like any of these!"

Maggie is Meghan's younger sister. Meghan begged me to go shopping with her, practically forcing me to help her pick out a good present for Maggie's eighth birthday. We've somehow wandered into some dress shop, and I was instantly intrigued. I didn't understand why at the time.

"Hmm, I wonder why." Meghan laughs, tilting my head up to look at what size we're in. Oh. I don't know dress sizes the way I know shirt sizes, but I do know that we're no longer in the kids section.

I've somehow made my way into about the size of teenager dresses.

"C'mon, Maggie doesn't really wear dresses anyway." She says, motioning towards the door. The lady at the cash register looks at me weirdly, as if to say 'why are in here?'

I sigh again, looking at the dress I've just pushed back. It really is a nice dress according to me. It has only one sleeve, and it alternates between three shades of blue across it. It also has a black belt.

"Geez, Niall. With the way you're looking at it, you'd think you would want to try it on for yourself!" Meghan jokes; I just look at her with a guilty look. "Wait." She freezes. "Don't tell me you're actually considering trying it on."

I just look down at the rack again.

"Niall,"

"So what if I am! What's wrong with that?" I burst out, flicking a few more dresses out of the way.

The store goes silent for a few seconds, all the customers and workers seeming to stop and stare at me. A few people laugh a little, and some scowl.

Meghan finally whispers, "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Good," I say, picking the dress off the rack and walking straight into a changing room. I'm unsure if it will fit - for I don't know how dress sizes work - but I seemed to have choosen the right dress when it fits almost perfectly.

When I stand in front of the mirror, I almost do a double take. The colours of the dress blend together nicely. My eyes seem to glow when matched with the dress, and it makes my body look better than I've ever thought it looked.

I look pretty.

"Meghan!" I yell.

"Yeah?" She says, and I hear her footsteps running towards my dressing room door.

I open the door slightly, only poking my head out. She looks at me in confusion, trying to peek inside the room to see the dress. I look back to the rack we we're just at.

I point over to it, "Grab me that black one."

_-_-_

Harry and I ended up practicing for over 4 hours. It's now 7, and Harry is complaining that he's hungry. He's turned the cameras off a few minutes ago.

"Then go get something to eat," I say, motioning towards his kitchen. He has a combined kitchen and dining room, with a bar that's overlooking the living room. I don't understand why he's asking me if he can eat; it's his house.

"But I don't want to eat alone. Plus, I have nothing good." I roll my eyes - as I usually do - when he complains more.

"Fine, do you want to go to Panda Express then? Or maybe I can make us something. I'm not that good at cooking, but it's better than nothing." In all actuality, I really don't feel like cooking so I hope he says we can go out to eat.

"I don't want to make you do that let's go to Panda. I haven't had that in a long time,"

The drive to Panda Express isn't very interesting compared to our last drive in this car.

Today seems to be one of those days where I forget I live in Hollywood, because it seems as if as soon as we step foot out of the car, we've been swarmed.

"Damn," Harry mumbles, obviously having forgotten our current location also.

"C'mon, let's just try to get inside." I'm surprisingly calm, considering I have a bit of claustrophobia. Harry tries to lead us through the crowd of screaming girls and some guys. Camera clicks and flashes are going off all around me and Harry as I try to focus on the door instead of the shrinking space between me and the people.

It's then that my feet decide to let me down once I trip over my shoe laces.

Who still trips over shoe laces in the 21st century?

Me, that's who.

I begin to crash toward the ground. If it wasn't for Harry's hands on my shoulders trying to steady me again I would have faceplanted by now.

"Why didn't I call Paul?" Harry mutters once I'm standing upright again.

"C'mon, Harry." I try to tug on Harry's wrist and lead us towards the door. I know that if we don't get out of this swarm soon I might pass out. The air is aready thinning as it becomes difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, mine and Harry's hand are pulled apart as the crowd begins to center in around Harry. Everyone's feet seem to get in the way as I try to escape. My plan to make it to the door disappears, having been replaced by my frantic attempt to leave the crowd.

Although I'm not exactly considered a celebrity, it is very hard to escape the crowd. I've seemed to have forgotten that no matter how much of a nobody you can be - if you're seen with a celebrity, chances are you will be mobbed if you're ever seen with them.

And taking the fact that I do seem to have my own small mound of fans for being a popular dancer, escaping the crowd is near impossible.

I finally do end up falling to the ground, considering my calm state has been replaces by panic, and the feet that surge towards me become to much for my weak mind to handle. All my senses have seemed to drift underwater once my knees hit the ground. The screams become heightened as my face presses to the pavement.

Everything is underwater. The screams are broken and mixed together, my sight is blurry, and I can't seem to catch my breath no matter how much I gasp.

"Back up! Give her some space, please!" Harry's broken voice cuts through. The swarm splits like the red sea as Harry rushes toward my peripheral vision. I'm lifted up - although, my mind isn't present when it happens. My body is in a semi-unconscious state.

The screams become shallower and shallower until they don't exist at all, leaving a loud ring shrilling in my ears. Tears that weren't there a few seconds ago roll from my unseening eyes. I feel violated. I feel broken. I feel naked.

"Ni? Nicolette, can you hear me?" Harry's voice is worried. I can't see him, but I know he's close. Way to close for my liking. My arms reach out to shove him away, but they're not moving. Tears are rolling down my face, but my cheeks are dry. My eyes are wide and afraid, but my vision is dark. I'm screaming, yelling out curses of, 'get away from me! Don't touch me!', but my voice never cuts through the ringing in my ears.

This continues for seemingly hours; my unmoving arms flailing, my open eyes seeing nothing, and my non-existent voice pleading for safety, although no one seems to want to wish me the security.

After a while the ringing dims, my arms stop their attempted assault, and my eyes revert from dark to the fluorescent lights of Panda Express' ceiling. I am currently laying on the floor of the resturant with Harry at my side. My head is pounding and my mouth is alarmingly dry, yet, I sit up and hug Harry.

He hugs me back tightly, squeezing me until I cough. My hands fan through the hair just past his neck as he draws soothing circles into my lower back.

I don't exactly know why I'm hugging him - considering I had a panic attack over claustrophobia less than 10 minutes ago, but I pay no attention to that once Harry whispers in my ear, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"H-how long was I out for?" My voice comes out deep and raspy, reminding me of my voice I used to use when I was a boy. I really need some water.

"About 20 minutes, not counting the time outside. The owner's of this place noticed the commotion and called the police. They sent everyone away about 15 minutes ago."

"Oh..." I mutter and Harry hands me a cup of water. I take it gratefully, nearly downing the entire cup.

"Yeah... sorry about that. I forgot who we were for a second there. I would have called Paul if I knew it was going to be that bad. I promise, Ni, I never meant for you to get hurt." He looks almost painfully worried and sincere.

"Harry, it's okay. Calm down. I forgot who you were at the moment too. There was literally no way for us to see this coming. Well, I could have told you I'm claustrophobic, but too late now." I try to joke. It seems to have worked a bit when he cracks a smile.

"You can't really believe we were mobbed only for the fact that I was there. I could have sworn they were going for you more than me," He teases.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up," I shove him slightly, only for him to retaliate with an equally as forceful nudge.

"How do you think I got out of the mob quicker? I promise they were more interested in you,"

"Or maybe because you're used to being mobbed?"

"Not without a security guard I'm not." He argues.

"Well maybe just because you're a guy."

"Gender doesn't matter." I take a moment to contemplate his response.

"Huh, I've never heard that before," Really, I haven't. I'm sure he isn't meaning it the way I'm thinking, but still. I've always been told that boys are the dominating gender; bigger, stronger. They pay the bills and get the jobs. They come home late and let the wife take care of the kids at home. I've been raised on that perspective, that the male is the head of the family and the wife deals with the family part.

"Really?" Harry seems surprised.

"Yeah," I've never thought of myself being able to be the head of a family. I can't be dominant. I wouldn't be able to handle spending all day at work while I leave my kids at home. I want to be a part of my family, not just the one who does the outside work. It seems as if in that version of a family that the father is never really around. The children are raised by the mother and the father just shows up for dinner.

In all actuality, I've always imagined myself as the one who stayed at home. The kids would look up to me in a way of saying 'I want to be like my dad when I'm older' instead of 'oh, he's never really around so he must not be that important.'

And since that was strange for my family, I knew from a very young age that they wouldn't accept my choice.

Like me being a girl when they think I'm a guy.

Harry stays quiet for a few more seconds before he finally says, "Well, looks like we need to show you what's across the river. I.e., the 21st century."

I shove him again. "Are you saying I'm not modern?"

He laughs loudly, shoving me back. "That's exactly what I'm saying."


	6. Here Comes The Sun's Parasitic Autopsy

The first thought when I wake up is, 'where the hell am I?'

The decor is strange. This bed is bigger than mine. Why are the walls purple?

"Don't diss my walls, I find them pretty beautiful." Harry's voice cuts through my thoughts. He's seemed to appear out of no where. He's carrying a tray of numerous breakfast foods. "I, uhm, made you some food."

"You didn't have to." Is my automatic reply. It's such an easy reply and I'm so used to saying it when people do things for me, it's kind of like a tradition.

My parents always taught me not to take things for granted. They would say to be happy with what I have and don't rely on others to help. They would always say, "You're going to grow up to be an independent and strong man. You'll take care of the family the way you're supposed to. Try to do everything for yourself and your family, and don't let everyone hand you everything."

It's the only life motto I still live by that came from my parents. Not counting the 'strong man' part, of course. I don't like when people give me free things. Sure, it might be under their own free will, but I still don't like it.

Harry smiles lightly. "I wanted to, though. C'mon, we need to get to the studio soon."

"Why?" I sit up and stretch. I don't remember having to come in at all today, but I haven't checked my calendar in a few days so I might be wrong.

"The stylists are getting our costumes ready and they need to check if they fit." Oh, I forgot about that.

"Right," I reply. He makes his way over to me, setting the stray down on the night-stand next to the bed.

"You alright?" He asks. What? Do I look sick? "You sound like you're getting sick. Your voice is really deep."

Shit.

I clear my throat the best I can. I've learned how to not talk with such a deep voice. I felt silly the first time I had done it, but now it seems natural. My voice sometimes reverts back to it's normal rasp in the mornings, though, and I sometimes have to take at least 10 minutes before I talk at all. I must have forgotten.

"I'm sorry," I apologize quickly.

"No, it's fine. I was just worried because you seemed out of it when I told you I made breakfast. I thought I kind of scared you a little and I just noticed your voice seeming quite deep." I almost sigh; I'm so stupid. I haven't woken up and had someone to talk to in nearly 5 years. "I like it, though. I like your normal voice." He quickly adds.

I think about it; should I correct him? I mean, it's not like it really matters. I'm never going to make this mistake again.

Instead of replying, I smile lightly and motion for him to sit down. He's automatic to do so, sitting just barely off my foot. I bring my legs out from under the duvet and wrap my arms around my knees. It's my normal stance when it comes to sitting in bed. My legs are ashy; I really should shave soon. Generally, I wait until the night before the show to shave, but I guess I can make an exception this one time.

Harry smiles a little and hands me a plate. It consists of eggs, bacon, sausage, miniature pancakes, and a small bowl of yogurt. He then sets a mug of tea down on the edge of the night-stand.

"You know, I would have been fine with eggo waffles." I mumble, glancing up at him. Harry shrugs and smiles sheepishly, picking up his own plate of food and starts eating. I sigh quietly; this is too much. I'm guessing Harry knows that as well, when he bites his lip. "Harry,"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were a light eater."

A laugh bubbles up out of my throat. "I'm not. It's just, you didn't have to do all this. You didn't have to go through all the trouble to make this. I mean, it must have taken ages to make all this."

"It didn't take that long, Nic. I'm great at multi-tasking."

"How long did it take?" I push. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. "Harry?"

"Just a little over an hour or so. It's no big deal."

"It's no big deal, my ass."

"Language."

I roll my eyes. "You sound like Louis."

Harry nearly chokes on his tea. I snort, before throwing a hand over my mouth. God, I'm full of unattractive mishaps this morning.

Harry doesn't seem to think so, though, when he mutters out a quiet, "You're cute." I'm guessing I wasn't supposed to hear it because he quickly gulps down another mouthful of tea. "So,"

"So," I reply, raising an eyebrow. That reminds me, I need to get my eyebrows plucked soon.

"How long have you and Louis been... I dunno, together?"

"Define together." I finally take a bite of bacon, chewing slowly.

"I dunno... like, dating." Now it's my turn to choke.

I have no thoughts when I let out a loud wolf-howl of laughter, not even noticing that it wasn't my normal girly laughter. It was a full-blown guy's laughter. I've always hated it.

"Louis and I aren't dating!" I sputter, still laughing.

"Well, you surely act like it." He mumbles through a piece of sausage. I scrunch my nose, letting my laughter die down.

"Since when? The last time I checked, I knocked Louis off of a table because I wanted an apple." Harry rolls his eyes - which is quite strange, considering I'm the one who usually rolls my eyes at him. "Louis and I just have a special bond. We both joined the show in the same season, so we kind of had to seek out to each other to get through the season without messing up. We we're kind of forced to become friends. Louis was also one of my first friends when I arrived in Hollywood."

"How so?" Harry finishes his breakfast and places his plate back on the tray. He still holds his mug of tea in his hands.

"I had just moved in when I auditioned for the show. They hired me right when I had gotten settled, so I didn't have much time to explore the city before I was called in to start my job. I wouldn't change it for the world, though. Even though Louis can be a pain in the arse."

"Oh. Well, sorry I jumped to conclusions."

I smile. "It's fine."

He smiles back shyly, then points at my plate. "Finish eating. We have to leave soon."

"Really? What time is it?" I would check my phone but I don't know where it is. I think I left it in my jacket which I left downstairs.

"It's just past 8." He replies.

"We don't have to be at the studio until noon," I point out.

He smirks, "I never said we were going to the studio first."

I take the last bite of my breakfast and wash it down with the tea. I raise an eyebrow, but don't question it.

"I have a feeling you want to take a shower before we go?"

"I took a shower yesterday; I'm fine. But I would like to brush my teeth and hair. And I would also like something else to wear."

"Uhm, well I don't have any girl clothes but I guess we could--"

"I'm fine wearing just a hoodie and some jeans." I cut in. He sends me a strange look. "Do you even see what I wear during practice? One of my Stars two seasons ago said I looked like a homeless bag lady." At the time, it was quite irritating since I just started getting used to not wearing my frilly little dresses all the time. As I had grown more busy as the years had gone by, my obligation to always look good was thrown out the window. I never have time in the morning to go to extreme when getting ready, and since I have no one to impress unless it's on show days, you'll rarely ever see me in anything other than a sweatshirt and loose jeans.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, sitting up. I nod, and he pulls the sweatshirt we was wearing over his head. Oh. I think when his torso is exposed. He didn't sleep in an undershirt last night, I'm guessing.

I take the hoodie when he offers it to me. He doesn't even seem to notice that he is now sat with an exposed upper body. I'm not usually one to complain, but I can't help but feel as if it's intimate. Why? Because my mind hates letting be normal for one second.

It's not like I'm not used to changing in front of people. I've changed in front of a lot of people at the studio before the show, but no one was paying attention to me when I changed. I would usually slip my shirt off and leave my pants on until the dress was completely down my legs. If i wasn't wearing a dress for that night, I would wait until everyone else finishes changing to get ready. No one has ever questioned it.

I shouldn't be bothered about it in front of Harry right now, then. But there's one thing that I'm not wearing now that I'm always wearing in front of others when I put my shirt or dress on: a bra. 

I've never had a genital transplant. I've never had breasts added to my chest through surgery. I have never been able to pay for the surgery when I was younger, and when I finally got enough money to do so, I had become kind of against it. I'm not transsexual; I'm transgender. I'm still physically a boy. And no, I'm not a cross-dresser. I define as a girl, but I'm still kind of a guy. I hate to admit it, but I am.

I don't want to change in front of Harry because he will know I'm not a girl. On the show, when I'm forced to wear a tight outfit, I generally wear a bra with bra-fillers in it. Other than that, I don't need it. I'm always wearing loose clothing, so no one ever sees my flat chest.

Harry looks at me with a patient smile on his face. No one has ever wondered about my chest at work, but I have a feeling Harry will. It's just the kind of person he is.

"Well?" He pushes. I close my eyes for a few moments and sigh. Good God, this is so stressful, and so, so embarrassing.

"Can you maybe, uhm... maybe not, well... could you not look at me? While I'm changing?" Great, he probably thinks I'm really insecure now. Or that I'm a lesbian.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," He's quick to collect the plates and mugs before he leaves the room. The door closes behind him slowly, squeaking when it gets closer to the doorway.

I let out a sigh of relief. I seem to be sighing a lot today, and I've only been awake for an hour.

I slip the sweatshirt over my chest, removing my loose "Vans Warped Tour '15" shirt that I had gotten last year.

As soon as the sweatshirt is down to my thighs, Harry knocks on the door softly. I call out that he can come in, and he's holding some running pants when he does. "I didn't have any loose jeans, but this is okay, right?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I nod, reaching out for the article of clothing. He hands it over, purposely letting our fingertips brush. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but Harry was smiling widely.

I go to fold my shirt up when Harry takes it from my hands. He raises an eyebrow, "Warped Tour?"

"Yeah. You've never heard of it?"

"I've heard of it, I just never took you as a punk music type of person. I mean, Black Veil Brides? The Amity Affliction? I Killed The Prom Queen?"

"For one, it's not punk; it's metal, rock, and alternative. And they don't just have hardcore bands and singers. Katy Perry started out there, and is Katy Perry metal?"

"Well, no. But they don't have a lot of purely pop singers or bands. It's mostly those genres you said."

"Don't diss my music taste. If people actually gave these bands a chance, they'd find out that it's basically the same as what they play on the radios." I'm beginning to get a bit mad. Sure, I've had people comment on it not matching my personality, but they've never dragged it out like it's a bad thing.

"I think you forget, Nicolette, that I'm in the music industry. And I can tell you one thing, a person screaming into a microphone and the same drum riff over and over isn't anything like pop."

I roll my eyes, "And I think you forget, Styles, that I have to hear over 10 songs on every show night. I guarantee I've heard a larger variety of music than you have. Just because you're in the music industry doesn't mean you know anything about all these music genres. What kind of music do you make again?"

"Pop. Rock, sometimes."

"Yeah, and how many genres is that? Two. You only focus on two music genres, while I have to hear nearly every one of them all the time. I think it's easy to say that I'm more experienced with music than you are."

"Nicolette--"

"And I will tell you, it's not just screaming. If you even took the time to decipher what they're saying, you'd realize that they talk about the same as your music genre does. Sure, it's a bit darker than yours, but it's still the same concept."

"Alright! I get it!" He cuts me off. I didn't notice that I was clutching my shirt to my chest until I come back to reality. Did I seriously get in a fight with Harry about my music taste? I need some coffee.

I don't even know where all those words came from. I was just spewing whatever I thought of at that moment like word vomit.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you--"

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't even know what I was saying." I sigh, pulling on the ends of my hair.

"Look, Ni. I'll give your Black Veil Brides and Killing The Prom King a chance if you give my musicm like Cher Lloyd and Fun. a chance."

I scrunch my nose, both at his offer and miss pronunciation of the band, "I Killed The Prom Queen," I correct him. He rolls his eyes. "And I don't know, your type of music is pretty gag-worthy."

"Oh, and your 'screaming about death' bands aren't absolutely horrifying?"

"Look, I don't want to listen to Taylor Swift singing about a non-existent break up or Bruno Mars talk about a large monkey."

"You're so hard to convince!" He pouts. "And I kind of don't want to listen to whatever bands you listen to scream about dying and overdosing on drugs."

I scoff, "Oh, and there's not any songs about that by pop artists?"

"Not that I've heard!"

Oh, so you've never heard Chandelier by Sia?"

"That's not about drugs."

"You're just in denial. And every song by The Beatles sounds like they're on drugs."

"You know, you're really mean."

"And you're really irritating."

"So... we have a deal?"

"Absolutely."

"Great!"

"No, that's the first song I'm gonna make you listen to. Absolutely by Nine Days." He whines a bit, but I pay to mind to that and pull him out of the room.

_-_-_

"This is garbage," I complain.

"No, it's not."

"Is that Spongebob or is that the person's actual voice?"

He laughs a little, "They took the Spongebob voice out of the show and put it in the song."

"That's plagiarism. What is this song called again?"

"I'm Ready by AJR."

"Go figure. Because it's not like they say 'I'm ready' twenty million times." We both roll our eyes.

"Just listen to the song."

"This is torture," I whine, taking a sip of my iced tea from McDonald's.

Harry and I are currently in the car on the way to the studio. He's been taking me all over Hollywood this morning. We've been forcing each other to listen to the songs we have on our phones through headphones when we were out of the car, and we would blast it when we were in. It's currently Harry's turn to make me listen to something, and my ear are about ready to explode. How can people listen to this crap every day?

The song eventually comes to an end though, and I'm quick to plug my phone into the system. Two can play at this game. He makes me listen to something like that? Oh, he's in for it now.

I've been sure to keep the songs not too hardcore - which proves to be hard since I mostly listen to that. So far, I've made him listen to Pierce The Veil, All Time Low, Asking Alexandria, Skillet, Marianas Trench, and Evanescence. He's seemed to like all the songs, but I'm sure he'll hate me now.

I consider giving him a choice, but I decide against it when he smirks. I quickly tap on the song Parasitic Autopsy by Thy Art Is Murder. He's going to hate me.

Harry jumps slightly when it first starts. I can tell he's surprised by my choice and he starts begging me to turn it off.

"No! You have to listen to the whole song!" I yell over the loud volume. He sends me a glare. I can tell he's wishing to not have to drive because he probably wants to cover his ears.

Luckily for him, the song ends pretty quickly in my opinion. He doesn't think so, though, when he smacks my arm, "I hate you."

"The feelings are mutual." I laugh, and he continues glaring at me.

He then plugs his phone in. I don't understand why, considering we've just pulled up outside the studio. Harry smirks at me again and I hear the lock of the doors click.

Oh shit.

"Harry, no." I beg. He just plugs the phone in and starts the song. I immediately recognize it. My parents used to listen to this song all the time when I was young. "Please, Harry."

"Here comes the sun!" He sings along. I try plugging my ears and reaching for the lock to pull it open, but Harry quickly grabs my hands. "Nope. You made me listen to whatever that crap was; now it's time for some classic Beatles."

"I'm dying," I complain, tugging on my hands. He doesn't let loose, though; in fact, I think he held tighter. "i'm committing suicide after this."

"Hey, don't joke about suicide." He cuts off his mouthing to the lyrics to tell me. I frown, understanding exactly what he means.

The frown is turned into a grimace when he starts singing along again. People would view this as intimate in any other situation, but considering I think my ears are going to fall off, I would view it very far from. It's anything but intimate.

The song seems to last for six years, but really I'm sure it was only a few minutes. I don't care; I need to get out of here. As soon as Harry lets go of my hands, I unlock the car door and practically fall out. He laughs, but I have no eyes or ears for him. My only thought is getting that retched song out of my mind.

"Awe, c'mon. That song is a classic." He says after I've calmed down a bit.

"Why do they always sound like they're on drugs?"

He laughs loudly, catching the attention of a few dancers and staff that are wandering aimlessly. I glare. I know people say they are iconic and cannot ever be duplicated, but, in all honesty, they were no all all they're cut out to be. I'm sure some of their songs weren't as gag-worthy, but I haven't heard any of them.

"Well, for one, they don't. What's wrong with The Beatles?"

I shrug, "They're just not as good as everyone makes them out to be. I think they're crap."

"Have you no soul?" He gasps dramatically.

"No, my soul was lost when I watched The Walking Dead."

"How?"

"All my favourite characters die! Like, why?"

He rolls his eyes. "That show matches your music taste perfectly. What was that song you forced me to listen to?"

"Parasitic Autopsy by Thy Art Is Murder. And excuse me, my music taste is lovely."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you'd like to believe."

"You are a dick."

He shrugs, "I've been called worse."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"A person who likes metal music."


	7. In One Ear

The rest of the week had gone by quickly. On Sunday, Harry and I had practiced the dance about twenty times in a row. He's quite good at it, considering all the twirls and quick steps. Although, if he could do the Argentine Tango, he can do this.

I've chosen to do the dance with an easy song that I know he knows the beats to - Fireflies by Owl City. It's an easy song to remember and I made sure to make the dance go with the song the best I could.

Our airtime was quickly approaching. They're making us go third instead of ninth this time, so we don't have much time in between breaks to practice.

Hal and Lindsay went first with four straight sevens. Roseanne and Keo were next with two sixes and two sevens. Harry's leg has been bouncing for the past five minutes until we're called to go on stage. I've told him to stop four times now, but he only seems to be able to for 30 seconds before it starts back up again.

"I'm nervous," He mutters to me.

"Obviously." He glares at me. "I'm not good at comforting people so that's the best you're gonna get."

His glare turns into a sigh and a lip bite. I glance over to the screen that counts down the time until we're back on air. There's only about 20 seconds left.

"C'mon," I say. He looks up at the screen then over to me. My hand is set out to help him up, which he takes gratefully.

"Thanks,"

"Just some last minute advice; don't let them see you're anxious. Don't focus on anything but me and your steps. I'll be counting off to you just in case you lose the place. If you can't do that, then pay attention to the music. Sing it in your head and go along to the beat." He nods, looking back at the screen. We have ten seconds.

He tangles his fingers with mine and tugs on my hand. "Are you ready to get eliminated?"

I roll my eyes and shake my head. He smiles a little before pulling me onto the stage. Our training over the week's video is playing on a big screen and everyone's eyes are looking over to it. We get in our position with my back to his chest and standing a few feet apart.

I shake out my arms and look up at the video myself. Our current position is on Thursday when Harry and I were dancing and he tripped over heels. Everyone laughs when he complains that I'm taller than him in heels and it's irritating. I laugh a little, too, glancing back at him to see his pout.

The man introduces us and the music starts. I take my one step forward, as I'm supposed to do so, when I'm whipped around by Harry grabbing my wrist. The lights around us flicker to represent lightning bugs as we're thrown into the course of the dance.

The entire dance basically revolves around a date at night gone wrong, or at least that's how I perceive it. I'm trying to get away while my 'date' keeps pulling me back, begging for a second chance. Every time a turn is made, it's made into a twirl. Every time I step back away from him he takes a step forward.

"'Cause everything is never as it seems..." The song ends with Harry pulling my back to his chest with my face turned away and my hands on his chest. The audience erupts into applause, and Harry pulls back. I smile up at him, even though I know exactly what the judges are going to say. I could feel Harry's stiff back and shaky hands every time he touched me.

He smiles back at me, out of breath. He kisses my forehead. I lead him over to the judges table where I can see all their smiles or frowns. Len and Julianne are writing something down on their pages, probably thinking about what they need to say to us.

Tom greets us with a big smile and compliments on our beautiful performance. He pats Harry on the shoulder. "Carrie-Ann, let's start with you."

Carrie-Ann smiles at us and sets her pen down. "I thought it was a beautiful performance. It was interesting to see Harry's facial expressions through it all. Harry, what was going on there?" Harry shrugs, looking down for a second. "I wasn't sure what exactly you're mood was on that dance floor. One second you would look happy, the next sad, the next angry? Either way, I did think the dancing portion was wonderful, I just feel as if you weren't with the mood of the song by the way you weren't showing the supposed emotion." Harry bites his lip. The crowd it complaining as they usually would whenever we're grilled, but they don't understand how this actually helps me see what I need to work on.

Next Bruno is told to judge. "I have to say that I do not agree with Carrie-Ann. I feel as if you seemed actually pained, which was the intended emotion of the dance and song." He stands up and motion around with his arms. "The one thing I did see was your reluctance to get into the music. You hadn't taken your eyes off of Nicolette the whole time, even when she was facing away. You were paying more attention to her than to the actual dance which made some of your steps late."

"I think you're dance was great, but you're presence was lacking. You focused mainly on getting the steps right than actually letting yourself just flow with the music. The performance was wonderful and there were no wrong steps, but it didn't seem as if you were there. It was like you were copying the steps right out of a book." Len grills. The crowd complains that they're being to hard. He looks around with a distressed look.

Julianne starts her statements when the crowd calms down a little, "Well, I loved it. I thought you were very expressive with how you were feeling. I don't agree with Carrie-Ann about the facial expressions being in the wrong place because your moods did seem to match the right timing. When she turned away, you got sad. When she turned around, you looked happy. When she was walking off and you were reaching for her, you looked depressed. The thing that I do need to point out is your nervousness. It didn't seem as if you wanted to get into the music because you were afraid to mess up. Yes, it is a competition and there are times to be nervous, but right now wasn't one of them. You were able to do the Argentine Tango quite well, and you're also paired with Nicolette. She's known for adjusting to someone else's strengths and weaknesses. You just need to tell her if you absolutely need something changed and she most likely will change it."

I look up at Harry; he's biting his lip and nodding quickly. He looks down to me. I smile a little, trying to smooth out the holes they've just punctured into his ego. I know he felt he did wrong, but he wasn't expecting a grilling as bad as it was.

Tom exclaims how the judges are being too hard and how he loved it before sending us up to the sky deck. Erin is waiting with a large smile on her face. The other couples clap from behind us, sending us apologetic looks. Zayn sniggers at Harry's saddened face and it takes my all to not flip him off. He catches my glare and smirks. I roll my eyes and wrap my arm around Harry's waist.

"Wow. I wasn't expecting such a heartfelt performance. Nicolette, you taught him well." I can tell she's trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah. It was a difficult task, considering how hard-headed he is about, well, everything." Erin smiles wider. I glance over at the screen that displays us and I notice Harry's small smile.

"Harry, did you enjoy your first official grilling?" Erin asks.

Harry scoffs, "I surely wasn't expected. But hey, they're here to help us, right?" Erin and I both nod.

"Alright, let's get your scores." Harry and I both look up to the screen.

"Carrie-Ann Inaba,"

"Six,"

"Len Goodman,"

"Six,"

"Julianne Hough,"

"Seven,"

"Bruno Tonioli,"

"Seven,"

"Alright with a score of 26 out of 40, these guys really need your votes if they're going to want to make it to next week's live shows." Erin carries on while I hug Harry. He's holding me tightly, burying his face in my shoulder. I rub his back, and look towards the camera. Harry pulls away and looks at the camera too, pointing down to our voting number that appears at the bottom of the screen.

_-_-_

"I fucked up," Harry mumbles. The show had ended a few hours ago, but Harry refused to leave the studio. I could have left him here but I know he needs me.

"No, you didn't." I say. Harry nods and wraps his arms around his knees. Everyone else has already left the studio and I know we're going to be kicked out soon.

Harry and I were tied for tenth place with Roseanne and Keo. Amy Lee and Liam were the ones to take first place this time, with two eights and two sevens. Our combined scored with last week's placed us fifth on the leader board, which doesn't seem to be enough for Harry.

"Yeah, I did."

I roll my eyes and sit down next to him. "Do you seriously think you did?"

"Yeah. The Argentine Tango is one of the harder dances, right? And we got a better score on that on the first week than we did this week on one of the easiest dances."

"Everyone is different, Harry. What you find easy to do isn't the same as what the other Star's find easy. It was simple mistakes. And, to be honest, I think they were going easy on us because it was such a hard dance last week. Since it's the second week and we got an easy dance, they decided to kick in with the real judging. You didn't do anything wrong." He looks at me with wide eyes. His eyes would resemble that of a puppy if he tried, but the colour and the shape just don't seem to be able to make it very effective.

"Did they have to be so hard on us?" He asks innocently. I scoff.

"They weren't hard on us. It was your first brutal judging and of course it's going to affect you this badly because you haven't had to deal with something like that in a long time. Trust me, the worst has yet to come."

His nose screws up, "Now you tell me."

_-_-_

"How long have you been dancing for?" My dance instructor asked after the class was dismissed. The small community college I chose to attend when I moved seems to provide me with as much knowledge and training as a highly-rated school would.

"Uhm, since I was young. Really young." I reply, picking at my fingers. I'm wondering if she's going to point out my lack of experience. My parent's never agreed to sign me up for any ballet or dance lessons so I was forced to have Meghan and her mother teach me. Thankfully, Meghan's mum was a very nice lady who allowed me to come to some of her classed for free so I could learn at a class pace and not alone in her basement.

"Have you had any training?" She shuffles through some papers. After she finds one that I'm guessing was meant for me, she passed it over to me along with a pen.

"Very little. My... my parents couldn't afford to sign me up for any classes so I had to take lessons from my neighbour." The paper is a type of syllabus, with rules and demands that must be met in order for me to move on to the next semester in this course.

"Well, those lessons paid for themselves quite nicely." I glance up through my eyelashes. The instructor is smiling at me. "You've very talented. You're quick on your feet and much more advanced than some of the students that are in this class. I might consider moving you up to a harder class; classical and ballet just seem to easy for you."

_-_-_

The first elimination night was always the easier to get through. The Stars and dancers hadn't had enough time to get to know each other so whoever was eliminated wasn't a complete loss.

Harry has been trailing behind me like a lost puppy all night. So far, Jack and Karina, Roseanne and Keo, Demi and Louis, and Kendall and Henry are all safe. Zoe and Mark and Hal and Lindsay are both in jepoardy.

It's mine and Harry's turn to go up to the stage and told if we are going to next week shows or if we are in jepoardy, along with Amy and Liam, and Lorde and Derek. All three of us had done well. Amy and Liam were in third place, Lorde and Derek in fourth, and us in fifth.

Our replay of last night's dances and scores play across the screens. Harry's arm is wrapped tightly around my waist as our video starts. There's a small part at the end that shows Harry's sadness written across his face while I run my hand through his hair.

"I didn't think they got that on video?" He looks down at me with confusion. I shrug, not really letting it bother me. I'm used to having the cameras follow me around everywhere. That's why I was confused when we could go to his to practice without a camera crew. I've always had to inform them if we were going to practice somewhere else so they could get a crew to come with us. They've never told me about the new cameras in the houses.

For all I know, Harry could have requested them.

"Now it's time to announce who's safe and who is in jeopardy." Erin says into the microphone seriously. The camera zooms on on Amy and Liam, which means they will be told first. "Amy and Liam,"

The dramatic music plays and you can physically see Liam's uneasiness. It would such if he was kicked off the very first elimination night, considering it's also his first season. Liam, just like Louis and I, hadn't been chosen to be in The Troupe so he was immediately thrown into the live shows.

I hope he gets through.

"You are safe!" Tom says excitedly. Both Amy and Liam let out sharp breaths of relief and hug tightly. He gives them a moment for everyone to applaud and cheer, also for them to have their moment before moving on. "Harry and Nicolette,"

Harry's arm tighten around me. I bite my lip because his pressing into my pelvis, almost touching my private part. I know it's weird to get nervous about his finding out about me - especially when there is much more intimate touching in the dances. I've never had anyone here in America wonder about my gender.

I define as a girl so they think I'm a girl.

The dramatic music seems to play forever. With each passing second Harry's hand presses down harder, causing me to squirm.

Louis would never let me live it down if I get aroused on stage.

"You're also safe!" The crowd applauds, but I have no eyes or ears for that as Harry turns me around and lifts me up. He holds me up by my thighs, buring his face in my neck. My hands reach around to steady myself on his shoulders and also play with his hair hanging down over his neck.

I don't hear if Lorde and Derek make it through to next week's shows or not. Harry has carried me back stage when they go to a commercial. His head is still in the crook of my neck but I don't mind. It's nice having someone hold me like this without a camera.

For all I know, there could be a camera on us.


	8. Dancer's Block

As it turns out, Hal and Lindsay were the first to go home this season. Since it's only the first elimination it hasn't really effected us.

It's now week three, and also our very first 'themed' show. Every season we try to come up with different themes, and this week just so happens to be 'Teenagers.' Things like love, relationships, growing up, and involvement with the wrong crowd.

It's obvious I don't know much about teenagers.

In all actuality, I can't compare myself to most teenagers because I'm not like most teenagers. I wasn't looking for love, I was looking for acceptance.

Either way, Harry and I are supposed to meet in an hour so I can show him the song and dance. Only one problem: I have no idea what song to do.

Harry and I are stuck doing the Charleston this week, which just so happens to be my worst put-together ever. I've always had to seek out for someone's help if I was ever stuck having to make the routine for this particular dance.

I would have called Louis or Derek, but I was too occupied on celebrating with Harry last night instead of planning for our next performance. He insisted, and I couldn't tell him no. Especially when he brought up the idea to do our little listening game again. He made me listen to Lady Antebellum.

_-_-_

"How long have you been dancing?" My friend asks after we walk from class. She's a short but perky girl who has helped me out with some of my footing on more complicated dances.

"Since I was really young. My friend and I used to dance all the time before I thought of doing it professionally." It's not exactly a lie.

"Well, you're pretty good on your feet. Contemporary seems like your best dance, skills wise."

"Would you believe me if I told you that's not the first time I've heard that?"

"Probably." We both laugh as we walk towards the bus stop. She needs to take the bus back to her home while I need to stop by at my apartment before heading off to my 'audition.'

The bench at the bus stop is nearly empty - save one business woman and a man with a small toddler.

"Wait." She stops me by grabbing my arm, forcing me to face towards her. She studies me for a few seconds before saying, "You have really pretty eyes."

"That's not the first time I've heard that either." She smiles before turning to the upcoming bus.

"This is me. I'll see you tomorrow, Nicolette."

_-_-_

Harry smiles at me brightly before kissing my cheek. Ever since the middle of last week he insisted on greeting and saluting me with the simple form of affection. I hadn't let it bother me at the time; my mind wasn't capable of having those kinds of thoughts yet.

"Hey," I say, pushing him back lightly.

"Good morning,"

"It's not morning, you idiot."

He looks at his wrist where his nonexistent watch is facing upwards. "What? Since when?"

"Since like two hours ago."

"Hmm, I must have been too busy waiting on you to hurry up and get here that I lost track of time."

I roll my eyes. "I told you I wouldn't be arriving until 2. It's your own damn fault for showing up early."

"Well excuse me for being punctual." I roll my eyes again but don't reply. He ruffles my hair for a moment before asking, "What was our dance this week again?"

"Charleston."

"Sounds like Charlie Brown,"

"More like Charlie Chaplin. Come on," I motion for him to follow me to the practice room. Although I don't have the song picked out, I can still show him the basic steps.

He seems to pick up on it easily, which leaves me confused. The Charleston isn't exactly the easiest dance - albeit, it's not the hardest either. The steps are pretty simple but it's the speed I was sure would get him the first few times. It's quite strange because he was able to do it at the rate I was when I first showed him.

My look of confusion must have caught his attention because he smiles sheepishly, running a hand through his hair before pushing it off his forehead. "Yeah, I... I, eh. I looked up the dances from the past seasons and decided to see if I could do them. This one was one of the last ones I did so it's kind of fresh in my mind."

"Oh."

"Yeah.... do you think we could start practicing our dance for this week."

"Haha, yeah. About that..." He looks at me strangely. "I hadn't actually started making the choreography yet..."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"All right then. Well, what do you suppose we do?" He asks, throwing his hair up in a bun. I shrug loosely, not really thinking about what to do next. Instead, I was thinking as to why he decided to look up those dances. Did he want to win that bad?

"I uh, I don't know. I was actually hoping it would take you longer to learn the steps so I would have more time to come up with a good song."

"Maybe we could listen to some music? You know, to see if any of those songs would fit? Maybe we could play our music game..."

"I guess. Yeah, let's do that."

_-_-_

Harry and I had gone through album after album of multiple songs before we finally came across the right one.

I was actually quite upset when I told him I chose a song. I was having too much fun torturting him with my, apparently, 'grave worthy music taste.' He thought he was so clever when he came up with that because the majority of my music talks about death and sadness. I smacked him in the chest.

While he made me listen to some artists such as Fun. and American Authors, I was putting him through 'hell' with bands such as Psychostick, Attila, and Crown The Empire.

He punched my arm when I refused to turn 'So Heavy' by Psychostick off. It wasn't even that bad of a song. He must have been able to stand it a little bit because he was nodding his head along to the lyrics every time he thought I couldn't see him.

When I chose the song, I didn't tell him what it was. I knew he would get cocky and say I'm starting to like his music taste because of him, which would probably lead to a rolling of my eyes and a jab to his stomach from me.

_-_-_

"Niall," Greg calls me. Our parents aren't home and he's watch me go through our mum's closet. "Ni, what about this one?"

I turn around and he's holding up a lengthy maroon dress. It doesn't really fit my style, but it's better than most of the things my mother has. "Yeah, alright." The dress is handed to me. The dress it backless so I can't wear a bra with it, so I take the stick-on chicken fillet out of the new case I got. Greg snorts but doens't say anything. He's okay with my choice. He believes I can be who I want if it's what I truly believe I am.

"Don't look."

"What, why? I won't judge you."

"Shush, now turn away." He rolls his eyes, but again doesn't say anything. I quickly put on the stick-ons before slipping the dress over my shoulders. I'm quite bigger than my mother so the dress only goes to about mid-calf. "All right."

He turns back around excitedly. This is the first time I've ever worn a dress in front of him. His smile is wide as he walks over. "You look good. Really good, Ni. If you weren't 14, or my broth-- sister, I would definitely go for you."

"That's disgusting." I scrunch my nose. He laughs at me face before hugging me.

"I'm glad you've finally figured out who you want to be, Niall." He pulls back, glancing over me again. "When are you going to tell them?"

I sigh, "I don't know. When I can't hide it anymore, I guess. They're not going to be accepting, I can feel it."

"Hey, you don't know that."

"But I do, Greg." My voice is small as I pull away to go sit on my parents' bed. "You don't see how they react to my new style when you're not here. You don't hear the things they tell me." It's true - ever since Greg has left for Uni my parents have been hateful towards my seemingly 'girlish' style. They say that a boy isn't supposed to seem so weak. They say I should be working to be a successful business man, when all I want to do it dance.

They hate this 'new' me, even though this is the me I've always been.

"Hey now, don't be upset. I'll be there for you every step of the way."

"But will you? Will you really? How do I know you won't hate me too?" I whisper, hoping he doesn't hear me.

"Niall?"

"Yeah?" My voice is still small.

"Nicolette." He suddenly says with a large smile.

"Huh? Is that your girlfriend?" Why would he sudden;y bring his dating life into this situation.

"No. That's what your name should be. Nicolette."

"Nicolette?" The name rolls off my tongue nicely. I can imagine being called that. "Nicolette Horan."

"People can call you Nic." He nudges me. I smile, liking the way he's thinking.

"Nicolette Ja-- what would my second name be?"

"What?"

"Well, I surely can't be named Nicolette James Horan." He nods in agreement. We both sit there for a minute, trying to come up with a good middle name that I would still have the same initials to. Jill, Jamie, Janice...

"Janelle. Nicolette Janelle Horan." He comes up with.

"It has a nice ring to it."

"I know, that's why I said it." He rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Nicolette. I thought girls were smarter than this."

I don't hesitate ti smack him in the arm.

_-_-_

"Are you nervous?" Harry asks as we're about to be called up.

"A little."

"Wow that's new. Usually I'm the nervous one." He chuckles. "You must really such at this dance."

I scoff, "I'm fuckin' amazing at this dance, thank you."

"You know, liars go to hell."

"And apparently so do people who listen to metal music, according to you. I was already bound to go there anyway."

"You're annoying,"

"That's what Satan said when I moved in."

He rolls his eyes before running off to the other side of the stage. We only have a few seconds until the dance starts.

"Dancing the Charleston, Harry Styles, and his partner Nicolette Horan." The British man voice calls over the intercom.

The first beat of the song starts, and I can literally feel Harry's eyes locked on me with a smirk on his face. If we weren't dancing I would definitely punch him right now.

"Oh baby, I just want you to dance with me tonight  
So come on,  
I just want you to dance with me tonight."

The song seems to go by quickly. Harry's stupid smirk was still plastered on his face, only now he's breathing a bit heavier.

"I knew you liked my type of music." He whispers in my ear on the way over to the judges table.

"I don't."

"I already told you liar's go to hell. You must really want to be Satan's neighbour."

"Bitch, I already am his neighbour." Harry laughs a little before looking up at Tom, who has begun to talk to us.

The judges seemed to love our performance also. There were no real big tips, except that Harry was still a little stiff in their opinion. Carrie-Ann also commented on his smirk; I tried so hard not to burst into a fit of laughter.

After our judging finishes, Harry leads me up to the sky-deck. He turns to me after we've stepped next to Erin. His goddamn smirk is still on his face.

So I jab him in the stomach just like I said I would. My jab causes him to laugh loudly, which causes Erin to smile wider.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt on anything." She teases playfully. Harry and I both smile back before we're interviewed shortly and given our scores.

With 2 eights and 2 nines, Harry and I landed at the top of leader board in first place at the end of the night.

_-_-_

"What are you talking about, NIall?" My mother scoffs at my apparent 'ridiculous' behaviour.

"I just can't act like I'm a guy anymore. I'm a girl. And please, don't call me Niall. That's not my name."

"It is your name. Your name is Niall James Horan, a boy who was born September 13th, 1993."

"You're wrong."

"She's not wrong, Niall." My dad buts in.

"Stop calling me that." I struggle to hold in my tears.

I couldn't take lying to my family of my whereabouts anymore. I couldn't lie about what I do in my room most of the time anymore. Waiting for Greg to come home to be there with me was too hard, so I just sputtered it out just a few minutes ago.

"What do you want us to call you, Niall?"

"Nicolette. Nicolette is my name."

"That's hardly a name."

"It's still my name."


	9. Water Fight

Kendall and Henry had been kicked off the show on Elimination Night. As the weeks go by, it gets harder and harder to see the couples go.

This week we have 'Sex-On-Legs' as the theme. Most of the dances are Salsa, Cha Cha, Tango, and a few others; Harry and I just so happen to have Salsa.

I'm looking forward to this week's dance. I already have the song and the entire dance decided on. Hopefully Harry won't be too picky with how he wants to learn this week, but you never know with him.

When Harry showed up on Wednesday he practically begged me to go practice at his house instead of at the studio. I don't know why he preferred practicing there; I think it gives him a better sense of security more than at the studio.

I've never actually been with a Star who preferred to dance at their own place. Most of them actually got upset if we ever had to practice anywhere else besides the studio.

Harry informed me at the end of the day on Wednesday that he would need to go into the recording studio for a few hours tomorrow. His album isn't being released until the end of the year, but he said he would rather get it finished early so he can focus more on the harder dances in the upcoming weeks.

"I want to commit my entire self to the dancing, not just part of it." He had told me. I shrugged it off, just taking it that he really wants to win, or at least make it to the bottom few.

If I'm being completely honest, I've never actually been with a person on the show who's wanted to win as much as Harry seems to want to. I think I've actually only made it to the bottom five once; albeit, I haven't been on the show as long as many of the other dancers. The very first season was actually one of my least dedicated times when I was on the show, considering I was just trying to finish up my college classes without having to be homeless.

When I first left home, my parents - or more like my brother - would send me checks for food and a home. Since I was only 16 and still considered a juvenile, my parents were still my legal guardians. After I turned 18, I had told them that I graduated from high school and was planning on going to small college, and also I would be getting a job so they didn't have to send me much. I also had quite a bit of money saved up from my night job in Ireland and a small job I had here for a few months.

_-_-_

Lily and I had grown close as the two year community college classes came to an end. She managed to stay as one of my friends throughout the entire two years, which was surprising enough as it is.

"You know what's going to suck?" She asks me as we walk towards her car in the parking lot.

"What's going to suck?"

"When school ends, we won't be able to see each other anymore."

I sigh, remembered how she told me she will be moving to Oregon to continue her dancing career. I tried to convince her to audition for Dancing With The Stars with me, but she refused. Too big off a crowd to please, she had said.

When I tried out for the show, they had immediately put me on the show to be paired with a famous person. I've been told my stage presence and ability to dance with other people well is one of my strong suits, and I'm guessing the producers noticed that too.

"It was a fun two years." I say. She nods, pulling me into a hug before getting into her car.

"You might want to get to the studio; your Star is waiting for you." She reminds me. I smile and wave her off.

My Star and I were eliminated off the show the next night.

_-_-_

"Nicolette!" Louis yells. I laugh loudly and thrust the water bottle towards him to the water flies into his face.

"Yes?" I ask innocently when the bottle is empty. He glares at me, wiping his face for the fifth time.

"You're going to pay," He threatens, but there's absolutely nothing threatening about him when he's dripping from head to toe.

"I don't think I will." I smirk, before feeling someone cold go down my sweatshirt. My scream that follows is loud and ear-piercing, as I reach behind me to somehow ward off the cold liquid from my skin.

I jump around and see Derek standing there with an empty bottle of water, trying to contain his grin. I glower at him.

A water fight ensues. Louis had already run off to go fix himself up again when Henry joins in on our little fight, followed by Mark. Louis comes back right at the end with a bucket of ice and some more water bottles. My eyes widen as he advances toward me with the entire bucket.

"Louis, no. Please."

"Begging isn't going to work this time, Nicolette Janelle Horan." He says before throwing the ice into the air, aiming for it to rain down on my head. I wasn't able to move quick enough when the frozen water rains down all over me, drenching me completely.

My scream is loud, catching the attention of nearly everyone in the building. A few people come running from their designated areas all around the studio. Almost all the dancers just roll their eyes and go back to doing whatever it was they were doing, followed by the Stars that are already here. The producers and managers, though, aren't as easy on us when one of them yells out, "Hey!"

All of us - Derek, Mark, Henry, Louis, and I - all disappear to hiding spots as quickly as we can. We hear the foot steps behind us as we all run together throughout the entirety of the building.

"Let's split up!" Mark suggests.

If this was a predictable horror movie, I would have probably smacked him, but since this is an actual life or death situation, I'm already off down a different hallway with Louis in tow.

"Nic, wait." he heaves from behind me. I stop in front of an old dressing room before turning back, only to be met with a breathless Louis and an ever more breathless security guard 20 feet behind him.

"Lou, c'mon! We have to get away!" I grab his wrist and pull him as I continue to run all around, looking for a secluded area.

Nearly 10 minutes later, the security guard finally decided he's not going to be able to catch up to us when he stops and sighs loudly before walking back the way he came.

I finally stop running, allowing Louis to collapse against a wall. He's breathing heavy and looking up at the ceiling, mouthing something to God, probably.

I'm breathing heavy too, but I don't let that bother me as I pull him to an empty practice room. I sit down on the couch, while he, again, collapses on it dramatically.

"You will be... the death of me, Nic... Nicolette Horan." He says dramatically, taking my hand and placing it on his heart. "You feel that? It's all your... your fault."

"S'not my fault I'm in better shape then you." I laugh at him. He glares at me, but doesn't make an move to say something back.

The room stays quiet for another few minutes, the only sound being our uneven breaths. I lean my head against the wall and blow out, looking up at the mounted cameras all around the room. They really did invest in a lot of cameras that wouldn't need a person to man them. I'm guessing that's where the home surveillance idea came from.

"Nic, I need to ask you something." Louis says, his breathing finally back to normal. I nod but don't answer, too busy wondering if the cameras are on right now and watching us. When he notices I'm not going to say anything, he continues. "Has Harry ever... tried anything? With you?"

"What do you mean by that?" I roll my head on the wall to face him. He seems pretty serious, but you can never tell with Louis.

"Has he ever tried to, like... kiss you? Or maybe just do things you wouldn't consider a friend doing to another friend?"

I stay silent for a moment. Harry hasn't made a move on me, I don't think. He's done some suggestive things, but none that I would consider intimate in a way.

"No."

"Nicolette, you are a fucking liar." I'm taken back a bit by his harsh reply.

"How? He hasn't done anything suggestive in my eyes. Maybe you're just seeing things."

"No, maybe it's you that's seeing things. It's so obvious that he likes you."

"So what if he does? Why do you care?"

He scoffs, "I'm gonna care either way, Nicolette. Whether it just be a small crush or a full-on love for you; it doesn't matter. Everyone has taken notice to his affection for you, and you haven't put up much of a fight to stop it."

"So he has a crush; what's the big deal? It's not like I return those feelings."

"Then show that you don't return the feelings. Make it known to everyone - including him - that you are not interested in him. I don't care if you have to break his heart on camera in front of the entire world; just make sure they know you have no plans on being with him."

Louis stands up and walks to the door. He asks me if I want anything to eat or drink; I say a water would be okay. He nods before leaving the room.

I'm sat in the room alone for a few minutes, stuck in my thoughts. I mull over what Louis said. Has Harry really been flirting with me? Does he want me to catch some kind of hint that I haven't seen since Louis pointed it out?

All I know, is that I'm not going to tell Harry I don't like him like that on camera. No way. Not only would it be embarrassing to both him and me, it would also crush him. He's a sensitive person; I've figured that out by all the times we've been at his house together. And if he really likes me the way Louis made him out to, then I know he would probably end up crying.

_-_-_

"Niall!" I cringe when my mother calls me. I have yet to tell them about my epiphany. Greg has been trying to get me to do it, but since he's away at Uni I'm too scared.

"Niall!" She calls again. I get up and leave my room, walking down the stairs in the fuzzy slippers I 'borrowed' from Meghan's sister. She never wears them, so why couldn't I have them?

"Yeah?" I ask when I reach the last step. My mother eyes my up before shrugging and motioning towards the door.

"C'mon, we have a Bible study tonight. Please go get ready." I look down at my current outfit. All I would need are some actual shoes and I'll be fine. All my shoes are by the door so I don't know we she would tell me to get ready.

"I am ready, mum." I state. She eyes me up again before motioning to my shirt.

"Why are you wearing Meghan's shirt?" She asks. I look down at the tie-dye summer camp shirt that Meghan left over here.

"Uhm, she let me borrow it."

"Well, go on and get changed into church appropriate clothes. We have to leave in 20 minutes."

I nod slightly, sadly looking down again and turning to go back upstairs. I hope she doesn't make me wear tennis shoes either. I prefer my flats.

"Oh, and Niall?" Here is comes, she's going to make me change my shoes. "You should really stop getting into my make-up so often. It's too expensive to be wasting it like that."

I nod without turning around, going up the stairs with tears in my eyes.

I change into 'church-appropriate' clothes that consists of a simple baby blue button down an my jeans. Thankfully, my parents haven't commented on my shoe choice, but I'm sure it will be coming soon.

I walk into the bathroom and brush my hair down. It's getting a bit long and the blonde has started to come out, but I like it that way. The little bit of light hair is at the ends, which makes it look like an ombre. My hair is just past my neck when it's brushed down.

Next, I look at my make-up in the mirror. I don't wear much - only a little bit of mascara, lip gloss, and some blush. The way my mother noticed I was wearing it, I have no idea.

_-_-_

"Nicolette, stop it." Derek warns me teasingly. I keep moving toward him.

Harry still isn't here yet. I'm guessing his time in the studio ran long. I expected him to at least text me when he noticed he wouldn't be able to come in today, but my phone hasn't gone off once today.

"I swear to God, you're worse than my sister."

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"The fact that we're related it what's wrong."

I snort, but don't stop getting closer to him. "So, you're saying you're glad we're not related?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying,"

I laugh loudly, pouring the water bottle over his head.

"What, no! I thought we were done with this childish water fight!" He yells, shaking his hair out.

"It's not over until I win!" I say, dropping the bottle and running.

I don't once think about where Harry is.


	10. Visit

"Nic, are you okay?" Harry asks, waving a hand in front of my face. It's now Saturday, only two days from the show night. Harry has all the steps down, but I'm making him run through the dance a few more times just to make sure. I'm going to test him tomorrow without refreshing him to make sure he doesn't forget.

Harry's living room floor is large and generally spaced out. The couch and coffee table have been pushed back as far as they could go so we could have as much space as possible.

"I'm fine," I answer, although my words are generally disconnected from the conversation and, frankly, I barely heard what it is he had asked me. "Let's run through it one more time.

"Nicolette," He says after I stay completely silent during our practice, practically pulling me towards the couch against the wall. "what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." I say again, but I know I'm not.

Today seems like one of those days where everything seems to bother me. My mind is constantly flashing back to old memories of my mother and father claiming I'm a boy when I don't feel it most of the time.

That's the problem here, though. Most of the time. Some days, I feel as if I really am a boy. A real boy; a boy that God made me out to be, and maybe I should have listened to my parents. Maybe I really am a fool for considering myself anything but.

I was made to be a boy, my parents had said. It's one of those days where I look up to the sky or the ceiling; asking God why he made me so confused. Why must I feel like a girl most days, but a boy some others? Why must my frilly dresses and long skirts feel strange to me on some days? The underwear I wear sometimes seems unfitting for my masculine body.

"Ni?" Harry's voice is quiet and watered down. His arms are around me as he holds me close, rocking us back and forth on the big couch, sometimes nosing around in my hair. He doesn't seem to mind our close proximity; instead, seeming to enjoy it much more than I would have expected it to.

My mind flashes back to Louis' words in the practice room. They remind me of how I thought we could have been watched through the cameras if they were to be on. I know Harry has control over the cameras, but I'm unsure if he had turned them off before holding me so close.

I don't say anything though. My mouth is unable to form words. Even when the words can be felt vibrating in my chest and up my vocal cords to my mouth, my tongue and teeth and lips refuse to move, refuse to let me remind him of being watched so intensely by such a large audience. Instead, a low hum is emitted from my chest, sending noise out through my unmoving face.

I don't think I've blinked in over five minutes, or however long Harry has had me laying on him. I blink just in case, and indeed, I feel the sting of my eyes from being opened too long and a few tears slip out from my tear-ducts.

I'm not sad; I just needed to blink away the dryness in the center of my eye. Either way, Harry holds me tighter and even kisses my hair - I can feel it lightly on the part I lazily made last night after my shower - when one of the drops of liquid roll off the side of my face, past my ear, and onto his own skin.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Whatever I did, I'm so, so sorry. Just - please - don't leave me in the dark this time. Please tell me what I did so I can make it better." He pleads, kissing my head repeatedly. My mind worries about the cameras for a millisecond. "Let me make it better."

My mouth and tongue and teeth finally decide to do what I tell them, but what I say isn't what I was hoping to. "I-I need to make a p-phone call."

He's silent for a moment, taking in my first words. I'm half expecting him to make me tell him what is bothering me, but the other half knows he won't do that. My more rational half is right when he whispers, "All right."

I'm released from him grip to stand up. He watches me intently as I go over to his counter-top where my phone is lying face down. When I click the home button, I'm not surprised to see I have a few text notifications and one Twitter notification. I ignore those, though, when I just unlock it and click the phone app. It doesn't take long to find the contact; I wonder what he would think about me calling him from across the world. I haven't talked to him in years.

Either way, that doesn't stop me from pressing the phone to my ear and listening to the dial tone. I turn back towards Harry, looking at him with the exact same intense gaze he has set on me.

The dial tone stops ringing, and I expect the monotone robotic lady to tell me that he is unable to reach his phone at this time, and that I should leave a message. When that doesn't happen, I wait for the sound of his voicemail to come through, telling me in a cheery voice that he's so sorry he couldn't reach the phone, but I should leave a message and keep calling him until he gets annoyed by the buzzing.

That doesn't happen either, though, when there's a crackle and some shouting, before his gruff voice calls through the speaker, "Nicolette?"

"Greg!" I nearly scream, wiping my eyes of some of tears that piled up during the intense few seconds that would result in extreme happiness or depressing sadness.

Harry looks at me weirdly. I ignore him though, and only pay attention to the sound of my brother's thick Irish accent. It's much thicker than mine. "Hey! I wasn't expecting to hear from you. What's up?"

"Well, I'm having one of those days..."

"What kind of days? Are you home-sick? Is it one of those 'I wanna fuckin' transition so I'm gonna do it'? Wait, are you transitioning?" He rambles.

"No, I'm not doing... that." I say, remembering Harry's in the room. I hope he can't hear Greg's loud voice. "Quite the opposite actually."

"Whoa, you sound so different. You're voice is girly and squeaky and your accent is so watered down!" He laughs loudly, making my heart ache. I used to laugh like that. "Sorry, not the point. But what do you mean? What's the opposite of fully becoming a girl?"

I turn around towards the counter again, whispering into the speaker. "Feeling like a boy."

He's silent, but only for a second. Then his voice cuts through loudly, "Holy shit!"

Harry jumps up at that, coming towards me. I turn back around and motion to him that it's fine, but he doesn't pay any mind to it when he asks who it is.

"No one, it's fine." He doesn't seem to believe me, but he nods anyways and sits on one of the bar stools.

"Who's that?" Greg asks.

"My Star for this season."

"Harry Styles?"

"How'd you know?"

He laughs again, causing Harry to furrow his eyebrows. "I watch the show online, ya idiot! You really thought I spent these least seven years forgettin' about you, didn't you?"

I roll my eyes and blush because, yeah, I did think that. "Shut up. Look, I know we haven't seen each other in person for a long time. It's taken it's toll on me too. So, I was wondering if you could come visit me sometime soon?"

"Shit, are you serious? You want to see me?"

"Well, yeah. Seven years is an awful long time to be away from you. Don't really know how I survived alone." Harry's face has contorted into one of slight sadness. I reach a hand over and place it on it's shoulder, smiling at him lightly when he looks up.

"You've always been a strong kid, Ni. Love ya, sis."

"I love you too. I've got to go; please try to get back to me If you can come. I'd love to see you."

"Wait, wait! Can I bring Theo along?"

"Who's... who's Theo?"

"Shit! We didn't tell you who Theo was?" He asks incredulously, his accent seeming to get even thicker.

"Uhm, no...?" I look back over at Harry. His hair is all in his face as he's looking down again. I tap his chin, frowning at him sad face. I ask him what's wrong silently, but he just shakes his head.

"Bloody hell, all right. Well, I guess we'll have to take a trip down there to see ya either way. I'll get the soonest flight I can, yeah? I can't wait for you to meet Theo."

"Okay then. Bye, Greg."

"Bye, little sis. I'll see ya soon; love you!"

"Love you too." I pull the phone back with a smile on my face, ending the call and locking my phone. As I place is back down on the counter, I can feel Harry slip away from my fingers that are still under his chin. He stands up and goes back into the lounge. I can tell his mood has changed from a happy, cheeky demeanor to upset about something just by the way his shoulders are slouched and his head is looking down to the floor.

"What was the song again?" He asks, his head still down.

"Hips Don't Lie by Shakira." I say nonchalantly. "Why?"

"I'll practice some more while you're gone."

His voice is quiet; so unlike Harry. He's usually loud and outgoing.

"Who said I was leaving yet?" My feet carry my closer to Harry slightly, where I place my hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's getting quite late; you should go on home." I shrug, because he is right. It's nearly 10:30 and shit. I just called Greg in Ireland, which means its probably five or six in the morning. I hope I didn't wake him up.

"Yeah, I guess." I step in front of him, lifting his head. It's then that I pull him into a hug, holding him around the neck. It takes him a moment, but he hugs back with his arms tightly around my waist. "Sleep tight, Harry."

"Yeah, you too. G'night."

_-_-_

"Niall, what's wrong? You haven't touched your breakfast," Meghan's mother asks. I had slept over at her house last night as a plan to tell her who I really was, but we ended up falling asleep before I could say it.

"Huh? No, I'm fine, ma'am. Still tired, I guess." She smiles, motioning toward my food once more.

"Eat up, dear. It will get cold soon." I smile back, looking down at the omelet and toast with jelly.

"Yeah." I say, scooping up a bit of food to eat. It's then that Meghan and he little sister come barreling down the stairs, their dresses flying up behind them.

"Mum, should I wear the baby blue with the white stripe across my stomach or the navy blue one with the dark yellow diamond pattern and a black cover up?" Meghan's sister asks, holding up the light blue one while wearing the other.

"You'll look nice in either one, Lillian. Now c'mon and eat, we have mass in less than an hour. Niall do you have your suit."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mum! That doesn't help me!" Lily cries, throwing her empty hand up.

"I told you; you should wear the light blue one. It makes you look less fat." Meghan teases, earning a jab to the stomach from her sister.

"Ni, what do you think?" She looks at me hopefully, holding the light blue one up to her chest for a second before pulling it away, placing it back, pulling it away again.

I look around nervously, not wanting to intervene. I know I'd give good advice, but it's not normal for a guy to know so much about dresses and fashion.

"See? He's trying to avoid it because you'll ask for a reason to not wear the dark blue, and he doesn't want to say it's because you look fat." Meghan is laughing now, looking down at her own dress.

"Oh, go drown in make-up or something!" Lillian says with a deep scowl on her 13-year-old face.

"Girls!" Their mother scolds them. "You're lucky your dad had gone in early to help Father Holly with cleaning up after service."

"Niall, please? You don't have any advice at all?" She asks again.

I sigh, looking over the few options. Personally, I would prefer the one she is holding because it's a little prettier, but it also isn't much fit for church - considering it's quite low-cut, short, and too bright. "I would think the one you're wearing. It matches your skin tone well, and the navy blue would make your eyes pop nicely. Not only that, but the jean top-half would make it seem as if you're not going to a funeral because of it's lighter colour." My mind shuts down as I go into fashion mode.

"You're a life-saver. Forget you people, all I need is Niall and my life would be 200 percent easier than it is living with you."

She skips back up the stairs, yelling out another thank you. Meghan sends me a 'what the fucking hell you were supposed to call her fat' look, but I ignore it. I'm already embarrassed enough.


	11. Seven Years

"When's this 'Greg' supposed to get here?" Harry asked me on Sunday night. He's been in a bad mood ever since Friday, and frankly I'm sick of it.

"His plane has already landed; he's just going to rest at his hotel for a few hours before coming over to mine."

"He's staying in a hotel? Why?" Harry seems to be happier when he finds that out, smirking a little when he thinks I'm not watching.

"He insisted."

Harry tries to hide his happy face behind his glass of water. "C'mon, let's practice once more before we have dinner." Harry says, pulling me back to his living room.

The practice is going on just fine until one of the close steps trips me up a bit. My heel catches on the end of Harry's jeans and I trip backwards.

"Sorry, sorry. That was my fault." He apologizes quickly, setting me upright again.

"No, it's fine. We just need to be a bit more careful during those steps." I grin at his flustered face. 

"Right," He laughs awkwardly, reaching for his phone. "Why don't we chill out for a little while?"

"We just got off from a break." I point out. He doesn't seem to listen as I can see the red recording light on the cameras set up around the room go dim. He looks back up at me from his phone with a faux innocent smile on his face.

"Why don't we eat some dinner?" He suggests. I sigh before nodding, following him into the kitchen area. I wipe a sandwich crumb off his countertop before flicking it away from my finger.

He pulls out numerous possible restaurant flyers and coupons, shrugging at my raised eyebrow. I look over a few of my choices, not really caring much. I wonder if I should get something for Greg too.

"I'm fine with whatever you want," I smile as he sets the coupons aside.

"I have a better idea," He says, placing an ugly apron around himself. "Why don't I make us something to eat?"

I laugh as he pulls his hair back in a tight bun, not letting any curls loose. "And what is on the menu at El Restaurante de Styles?"

He laughs at my given name before pulling out a carton of large pasta shells. "How do you say stuffed shells in Spanish?" He asks.

"I believe it's conchas rellenas."

"Then we will be having... conch-conchela rel-rellentas." He tries, looking at me for guidance. I laugh again, shaking my head.

_-_-_

As it turns out, it takes quite a while to make stuffed shells. Well, it would have been easy, but then Harry realized that he has no cheese to stuff the shells with, so we have to go out shopping. When we're at the super-market, Harry makes it a goal to contemplate between three different cheeses for ten minutes. We ended up getting all three in the end.

"Remind me to never go shopping with you ever again in my life, ever." I groan on the way back to his house. I'm currently holding the three cheeses and a carton of eggs, with a gallon of milk at me feet and a whole watermelon.

"I'll be sure to remind you that every time right after we go shopping." The laugh lines around his mouth and near his eyes are obvious on his face. He hasn't turned to me from the road when I get an idea.

I pull my phone out and click through it a few times before getting to an assortment of my music. Scrolling through the artists, I finally stop at the song Chop Suey! by System Of A Down. I personally love this song, but I'm unsure if Harry will be as accepting.

Either way, I plug my phone into his audio outlet before adjusting the volume. He looks at me with a weird look, but doesn't say anything. At least, not until the song starts.

"No." He says. I nod frantically and laugh at his scrunched up face. "Please, Lord, save me from this hell."

"Begging God to save you from apparent Satan's music isn't going to work!" I say, turning the volume up. I mouth along to the slower words, letting Harry's distressed face keep the smile on my face.

Is it bad that I enjoy watching his pain?

Luckily for him, the song ends quickly. He snatches my phone out of my hand and tries to turn the music off, afraid of the next horrific song that could come on. Strangely enough, the next song has me blushing and trying to take my phone away and unplug it.

He smirks at me when he sees the title. "What is this here?"

"Don't you dare," I warn, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns the volume up on my phone and laughs at me.

I steal my phone back and pull the audio hook up from my plug in. He smirks even wider and pulls into some random car park. "Now, what is the badass, worships-Satan, rock-and-roll Nicolette Horan doing with a sappy love song on her Recently Listened To list? Does she actually have a," he gasps dramatically, "soul? Underneath all that dark exterior, does Nicolette Horan bear a heart in her chest?"

"Fuck off," I mutter, hiding my face in my hands.

He pulls my hands back. I wish he didn't, because all I'm met with is his stupid y grin cheeky grin that I'd rather slap off him than deal with. "A Drop In The Ocean, hm?"

"I'm literally two seconds away from getting out of this car and walking back to my apartment." I threaten. He sees no harm in my fight, though, when he laughs at me again before pulling away.

His stupid fucking cheesy smile doesn't leave his face throughout the entire drive.

_-_-_

It took us quite a while to make the shells when we returned home, so I ended up called Greg and telling him to come over to Harry's for dinner. Harry was a bit hesitant with giving away his full home address to "a stranger" as he had said. I assure him that Greg won't break in and kill him; and even if he tried, he wouldn't get very far. This house is hoarded and secured from 20 yards in the sky straight down to the core of the Earth.

Harry scoffs at my explanation.

"You'll love Greg; I promise." I smile at the thought of seeing my brother again. It's been over seven years.

"Yeah, I don't think I will." He mutters after removing the shells from the oven. I roll my eyes at him and his obvious attitude. He doesn't know how long it's been.

The man at the front gate has already been informed of our visitor, so Greg arrives at the door right as I'm pouring the milk. The door bell rings and I nearly drop the entire jug of milk onto the floor.

Luckily, my hands don't hate me too much as I continue to sustain the strength to lift the jug up. My eyes flash to Harry with a wild expression; shit.

Why am I so nervous? It's just my brother. The brother that I haven't seen in seven years and who is now 29 years old with a good life and a well-maintained relationship with our parents, but still my brother.

I have no reason to be nervous about re-meeting practically a stranger.

Fuck, I can't do this.

Harry seems to think otherwise, though, when he walks out of the kitchen to answer the front door.

"Nic, you have a guest." Harry points out sarcastically before I round the corner to see him.

"Be nice, you fucking dick." I warn. Harry raises his hand in surrender, a scowl taking over his features.

"Now, why would I even consider being mean to him?"

"Your attitude is unnecessary, asshole." I growl. He just sniggers before walking back to the kitchen.

I take another few seconds to compose myself before walking around the corner. There he is, dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a white top and a hat that just doesn't go with his outfit at all.

But the thing that seems even more out of place is the small child standing next to him with a fat smile and big, round blue eyes that make my heart stop.

"Nic!" Greg yells loudly, sprinting over to me where I had stopped in the middle of the corridor. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes as tight as he can. I'm only about an inch shorter than him so picking me up isn't much of an option.

"Greg," I say back half-heartedly, trying to sound as excited as him. My eyes are locked on the kid, though. He looks an awful lot of like me when I was a toddler. My mum would always show me pictures of me in my little suits dressed up for Sunday School. When I look at this kid, I see myself back in those old amateur photos my mum had all around the house and in scrapbooks.

The round face, the big blue eyes, the fat little nose. Even his nearly toothless smile reminds me of, well, me.

"Oh, oh, right! Nicolette, meet Theo." I glance at my brother before looking back at the child. They both hold huge smiles.

Theo takes off into a run, just as Greg had done, and hops up onto my legs. He's clutching desperately onto my hips, looking up at me and shouting, "Auntie Ni!"

My heart squeezes in my chest as I pick the boy up into my arms. He's still smiling, and when I look up at Greg he's also wearing a warm facial expression.

"Looks a lot like you, don't he?" Greg points out with a chuckle. "Denise was all wigged out when he didn't look much like me. Demanded a bloody DNA test when he was about two or so. Bless his heart for not looking like me, he'd have a real tough time gettin' the lads or ladies when he's older with a face like this." He gestures to himself. I look up at him again before pulling him into another hug, with me doing the bone crushing this time.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?" I whisper. Theo still has a sight grin when he lays his head on my shoulder.

"I didn't think you'd care, being a big star and all. I guess I thought you might have forgotten about us back home." He sighs, his smile slowly fading. "It's been seven years, Nic. Seven years."

"I know..." I sigh too, looking down at the kid.

"Hey now, let's not get all depressing. Our lives have gone on pretty well during that time, yet we still managed to remember each other."

I smile as a tear rolls down my face. I never realized how much I missed him until I saw him again for the first time.

"And, if I'm being honest, it seems you've got quite a better life than I do. I mean, look at you! You're a star! A beautiful star, at best." He's back to smiling. "And you don't seem to be doing too bad in the romance department, either." 

I raise an eyebrow and hand his son back. Theo whines as I move him, but my arms are getting tired. "Huh?"

"You can't dare tell me you haven't been datin' that fit lad in the lounge. I mean, c'mon now. I'm not stupid." He nudges me. "Why don't we go meet him? What do ya say, Theo?" Greg shakes Theo in his arms a bit, earning a yawn from the little boy. It's probably pretty late back in Ireland, so I can understand his exhaustion.

I lead both of them into the kitchen where Harry is found spooning shells onto plates. He doesn't notice our presence until I jump up on the counter. He glares at me before saying harshly, "What?"

"Greg, Theo, this is Harry. He's pretty crusty when you first meet him but..."

"Hey!"

"... he's pretty good after you get to know him. Harry, this is—"

"I know who they are." He cuts me off, scraping the metal spatula against the glass extra hard. Theo squeaks and covers his ears.

"No, I don't think you do." I growl at him. He has no reason to be in a bad mood. Well, aside from the fact that we're eating his food - I mean I'd be pretty pissed too - but that's his fault for offering. He rolls his eyes, so I hiss at him a moment later, "So turn around and quit being a fucking dick."

He sighs loudly and over dramatically before spinning around, making a show of taking his apron off and placing it on the counter. "Hi. I'm Harry. Nice to meet you...?"

"Greg, and this is Theo."

"Great. Cool. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's eat."

_-_-_

Saying the dinner was weird would be an understatement. Harry was purposely acting like an asshole through the entire meal - a complete difference from his usual cheeky, charming self. Greg is responding to Harry's attitude with an equally as forceful one, trying to put him back in line.

It's not until Theo yells something out that throws Harry's whole demeanor off.

"Auntie Ni, why is daddy and Hammy being mean?" I look over at the boy. He's made a complete mess of his plate and face, but I don't pay attention to that as Harry gasps at the exact same moment.

"A-Au... Auntie Ni?"


	12. All Tangled Up

"Let me guess; you thought he was my boyfriend." I decide after Greg and Theo had left. Harry's head is bowed so it's hard for me to catch his nod.

I shake my own head and sigh. While I was here just thinking that he was overly nervous about the dance, not presuming that I'm dating my brother.

"I didn't know he was your brother," He murmurs quietly. His head is still faced downward towards the coffee table.

"Why did you think that?"

"Because you talked to him like he was your whole world! I was immediately dropped because of this person! I was trying to help you through whatever it was that made you sad that day, when you ran off to call this person you've never talked about." He sighs again, trying to nonchalantly make his feelings known. "What was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know." I realise my mistake. Really, I had thrown him under the bus without a second thought. I never would have noticed that he saw Greg as more than just a family member.

"And when he showed up here with that kid... Theo, he looks exactly like you!" He finally looks up at me, his eyes glistening. "I don't know, I just...that did it for me."

My mind flashes back to what everyone has been telling me. Does Harry actually like me? Why would he put himself through that torture?

"Harry, I've told you that I've been here for seven years. I've never gone back to Ireland; it's not possible for Theo to be mine."

"I know, I know. I'm an idiot."

"Well, I'll have to agree with you there." I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Harry gives a half-hearted chuckle.

"I just have one more question." Harry says. I nod for him to carry on. "Why didn't you just tell me? I mean, I was right there. Why did you run off to him when I was right there beside you? I was offering help." His head resumes it's position.

"Greg knows me a lot better than you. He helped me figure out things I was confused about and never left my side. I've only known you for a few weeks." I point out.

His head is low, his voice groggy. His hair has fallen into his face and he makes no move to fix it. "You know nearly everything about me, when I know nothing about you."

"You don't know nothing,"

"I don't even know your favourite colour." He cuts me off.

"What?"

"Your favourite colour; what is it?"

I think for a second before replying, "I don't have a favourite colour."

"Bull shit. Everyone has a favourite colour."

"Well, I don't. My life isn't really colourful."

"So you mean to tell me, out of all those dresses and suits you have to choose for every dance, you don't have a preference on what colour it should be?"

"I don't have any control over that. They make the skits and sets, I just make the dances and choose a song."

"Fine; what's your favourite show?"

"Hmm?"

"Favourite T.V. show. Even if you don't watch TV."

"I don't know. There's too many to choose from. Why are you here interviewing me when I don't even know your favourite colour or show?"

"Dark purple and Doctor Who. You already knew that and I know you did because I told you." He stresses. "You never talk about yourself. I want to know you. I want to know Nicolette Horan; I want the little details."

I close my eyes and breathe out deeply. I haven't had anyone want to get to know me, the real me, in a long time. Louis and I never had conversations like these because we both agreed that it was stupid to tell each other. We would rather figure it out on our own and see if we were right.

"Please, Nicolette. I want to know you."

There's a moments pause before I finally reply, "Fine."

"Really?" He gasps.

"Uhm, yeah. What do you want to know?"

"Well, you didn't answer my first question,"

"I already told you that I didn't have a favourite colour."

"Fine, fine. What about a TV show?"

"Well, I've always liked The Walking Dead..."

_-_-_

"You're nervous, aren't you?" I don't even need to ask to see the anxiety running through Harry's body. His eyes glance back and forth from the score board to the dancers on the ballroom floor. We are the last dancers of the night so we have a lot to compete with.

"When am I not?" He jokes lamely, not even laughing at himself as he would usually do.

"C'mon, Harry. Four weeks in and you still get nervous? How did you ever survive through the X-Factor alone?"

He frowns, "Singing is different from dancing. I didn't have to move if I didn't want to."

I roll my eyes, "You really were shit at dancing way back then. Hey, but look on the bright side!"

"What bright side?"

"Uhm, me. I'm the bright side."

"When have you ever been known to be bright?" His mood has picked up, even if just a little. His small smile makes me smile too.

"In this sparkly red thing? Yeah, that's when." He finally laughs this time.

"I have to agree with you on that. You look good in colour."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to go change right back into my black as soon as we finish."

He laughs again, "You remind me a lot of the spawn of Satan. Dark, mysterious and asshole-ish."

"Hey, you're the one that befriended Satan's daughter, not me."

Tom calls for a commercial break. The set designers immediately run out on the stage to set up mine and Harry's theme.

"Are you ready?" Louis asks after running down from the Sky Box. Him and Demi had performed right before us with a wonderful Paso Doble to a traditional Latin song.

"Yep," I nod, grabbing Harry's hand. He smiles down at me for a second and squeezes my hand.

"What about you? You up for it?" Louis turns to look at Harry's face. His eyes glance down at our entwined hands but he doesn't say anything. Not yet, at least.

"I guess." Harry shrugs, stepping a bit closer to me. "Nice score, by the way. Two nines and two eights, right?"

"Yeah. Demi's pretty happy, so I can deal with it. Good luck on your own." He motions behind us. "You better get out there; break is almost over."

Harry and I both nod before turning around. Erin has just welcomed the viewers back and is now explaining a few things about the next performance without actually saying our named. After a minute, the room goes dark for the practice mash-up video as Harry and I run out to the middle of the floor.

The video ends and the overhead voice introduces us. "Dancing the Salsa, Harry Styles, and his partner Nicolette Horan." Harry is already moving before the music starts.

"I never really knew that she could dance like this..." Our band sounds out.

We only dance until the middle of the song before they cut it off. Harry and I are close when we lose it right as the last ten seconds start.

Both Harry and I place our foot out and tangle them a bit. I'm the next to move so my footing is off for a few seconds. I step back again and trip over my heel a bit as it lands awkwardly on the side.

My body stumbles. Harry doesn't seem to notice when he pulls me back in for the last move.

My left ankle stings as the applause rings out in my ears. Harry's holding me close to his body. I glance over his shoulder and catch Greg's eye; he's looking at me with a worried look.

Harry pulls back and looks at me. His eyes widen a little at my pain-stricken face. "What's wrong?"

"Ankle," I mutter out, lifting my foot up to get the pressure off of it.

"Shit," He mumbles and looks back at Tom motioning us over. Instead of trying to lead me over there, he lifts me up with an arm under my knees and the other under my head. He carries me over to the judges table and places me down gently.

I balance on my right foot and thee toes of my left as Tom begins talking. He says a few things about how well we did in his opinion before we're turned over to the judges.

They all noticed my almost fall. We were drilled pretty hard and I could tell Harry was blaming himself. He thinks we won't make it through to next week, as usual.

After Harry had carried me up to the sky box, I could see all the pity-faces. I didn't like it.

"Well, I definitely wasn't expected that." Erin says once we step into the camera's view. "I can honestly say that I didn't even see the trip. Harry, did you know Nicolette nearly fell?"

"I felt her slip a little but I didn't think much of it. That happened in practice a few times and she didn't show any signs of wanting to change the dance because of it, so I thought it would be fine. I guess not. I went with it," I can tell just by Harry's voice that he's internally yelling at himself for being so careless. I'll have to talk to him after we get off camera and I get my ankle checked out.

There's now a throbbing pain running through my Achilles tendon. I had a friend at college who's Achilles ruptured and she had to go through physical therapy for 7 and a half months.

I hope that doesn't happen to me. I wouldn't be able to survive without dancing for that long.

"Alright, let's get your scores." I tune back into what Erin was saying. The camera zooms in on Harry and I while everyone in the Sky-Box looks at the screen.

"Carrie Ann Inaba,"

"Eight,"

"Len Goodman,"

"Seven,"

"Julianne Hough,"

"Seven," Harry tenses up next to me. He knows that she's usually nicer with her her scores so he must be terrified at the low number.

"Bruno Tonioli,"

"Eight," Bruno shrugs with a straight face. The crowd applauds or scolds according each judges' score.

"With a 30 our of 40, that leaves Harry and Nicolette in seventh place for the night. They really, really need your voted to make it through to next week." Erin rants on but I tune her out again. Harry is placing his hands together in a type of prayer to the viewers, hoping we won't be booted off.

_-_-_

"It's just a muscle strain," The doctor insists. As soon as the show ended, Harry forced me into his car and took me to the hospital. "It's a bit red and swollen, but ice will heal that up quickly. Don't wear heels for a few days."

"Will she be able to dance by Monday?" Harry asks.

"With the way it looks now, she may be able to dance tomorrow. Don't push it, though. I want you to rest with ice on it over night."

"No pain killers?"

"No. Just ice and rest and you'll be good to go." The doctor stands up from kneeling down to look at my ankle closely.

Harry and I both thank the doctor before signing me out at the front desk. I still have a bit of a limp because it's sore, but I can manage. Harry doesn't think I can, though, when he offers to carry me. I just lean on his shoulder when I open the car door.

The car ride is mostly silent. Harry doesn't make any movements to take me home. Me theory is correct when he's pulling up to the gate of his neighbourhood.

"Harry," I start. He looks over at me after pushing in the passcode. "it wasn't your fault."

He sighs quietly and continues driving, "It is, though."

"No, it's not."

"I could have-"

"No. This wasn't your fault, Harry. None of it was your fault. It was out of your control."

"But I could have noticed. I could have pulled you back upright. I could have-"

"They would have taken off more points if you did a wrong move like I did. I stepped the wrong way and I nearly fell, so it was my fault. You just went along like I taught you, which was the right thing to do."

"But, Nicolette-"

"Stop it. Let's just get back to yours okay? I'll ice my ankle and everything will be okay again in the morning."

"What about your brother?" Harry asks meekly.

"I told him to go on and head back to his hotel. Theo should have been asleep already and I didn't want to keep him up. Really, I was doing Greg a favour."

Harry still looks unsure when he pulls up to his house. His eyes are glancing over to me and back to his house. I sigh and get out of the car.

"C'mon," I open his own door and grab his hand. He's quick to take off his seat belt and get out with me. My hand tugs on his to get us walking up to his front door.

"What are we doing?" He asks quietly.

"We're going to pick out a song for next week's dance. The theme has to do with teenage depression and suicide. So, choose something like that."

"But what if we don't make it through to next-" I cut him off by placing my free hand over his mouth gently.

"Shh, don't think about that possibility. Just think about how happy you will be when we make it through tomorrow," I whisper. He looks down at my hand and nods. He then looks back up to me and takes my hand off his mouth. He holds my fingers tightly.

He then brings the top of my hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. I try to roll my eyes and play it off, but a blush takes over my cheeks when the air hits the cool spot now imprinted onto my hand.

"What's our dance?"

"W-what?" I stutter, looking back up at Harry. My hand is still being held our in front of me.

"Hi, welcome back." He chuckles. "I asked what dance we had. You know, like Salsa, Tango..."

"Oh. I don't know." I cough.

"Okay. Well, we better start looking then and narrow it down for each category."

"Right," I laugh awkwardly and take my try to tug my hand out of his. He doesn't let up; instead, he pulls me into his arms.

His arms wrap around me tightly. He place my arms around his shoulders as he sways us back and forth, not really caring that we're standing in the middle of his corridor.

"I'm really glad you're my partner, Nicolette." He whispers into my ear, still swaying. I hear something topple over behind him, but he doesn't let me see what is because his hair is blocking my view.

My voice is quiet, my breath shallow. "Why? I'm not much different from any of the other dancers." I place my head on his shoulder so I'm facing his neck. I'm sure he can feel my laboured breathing against his throat.

"Yes you are. There's something special about you. Something... indescribable." His hand is cascading through my hair soothingly, brushing away some of the tangles.

My eyes close as I lean closer into him. My nose presses into his neck right under the ear. The feeling of my nose being squished by his jaw is uncomfortable but I don't dare move myself.

"You're so talented." He goes on, lifting me up with one arm. My legs wrap around his waist in fear that I will fall. "The way you dance is different. You put everything into your dancing. I've always tried to figure out why you give your all. Sometimes I thought it was because you actually wanted us to win. Sometimes I thought it was because you were just an expressive dancer."

He has carried me into the living room and sits down with me. I'm about an inch taller than him in this position, but I don't let the height difference change my idea to keep hidden away in his neck. My knees are bent and pressed against the cushions of his couch.

"Now, I think you do it because it's the only way you know how to express yourself. You've never met a person who would care enough to listen. Your brother is the only one who will show you the care you deserve." I try not to make it obvious, but I tense a bit in his hold. He has me figured out like a jigsaw puzzle.

My mind flashes through all the people who I thought cared about me, but never did. My parents, Meghan, Lily. The old Stars I danced with.

"I want to listen, Nicolette. I'll listen. I care."

Harry's voice is begging, pleading me to let him in. He wants to know. He worries.

But will he still worry if he actually knows? Will he accept me? Will he still care?

Will I lose him if I let him in?


	13. Behind Blue Eyes

"Why don't we do this one?" Harry asks, showing me the song he has playing on his laptop again.

"Battle Scars?"

"Yeah. There's not many hip-hop songs that I know, obviously." He shrugs, looking over my shoulder at my screen.

"Greg, any luck?" I look over at my brother who has come over to help us choose a song. Theo is upstairs sleeping.

"All these songs are either two slow for a hip-hop dance or not about the right topic. There is a song by Eminem, though." He turns his computer and shows me the lyrics that are showing on the screen of a YouTube video.

"Mockingbird," I say.

"Yeh. It's not that slow, but not that fast either. The only thing; it's not about teen suicide."

"Ugh," Harry groans, pulling his hair out from the bun it was in. "this is hard."

"Now you know how I feel every week." Harry rolls his eyes and goes back to searching.

"Nic, don't you have any kind of metal band that sing songs like this? They talk pretty fast in those songs." Greg suggests, closing his laptop and placing it on the table.

"I don't know, actually. The only bands I think would work would be System Of A Down or maybe Crown The Empire..." I browse the large history of metal bands that have any songs that would fit this theme description.

"Oh no. Not more. I can't take any more of that," Harry begs.

"I'll be sure to choose a metal band just to annoy you," I laugh at his begging face. He tries to look like a puppy by widening his eyes and pouting out his lower lip but it's not working on me.

"Hey! That's my face!" Theo's voice cuts through from Harry's stairwell. We all look over at the three year old who is pulling the exact same face as Harry is trying to master.

"Harry's pretty bad at is, isn't he?" I joke with the little boy. He looks over at Harry again and nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I'm the best!" Theo giggles adorably and I have to refrain from cooing.

"Hey," Harry fake whines, crossing his arms. "you hurt my feelings."

"Aww, I sorry." Theo bounds over and throws his arms around Harry as he begins to fake cry.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I stole your face." Harry wipes away his invisible tears ad picks the boy up in his arms.

"I'm taking it you're hungry?" Greg asks the boy who is now laughing because Harry is holding upside down by his feet.

"Yeah!" His giggles are so cute and I can't help but laugh too.

"What are you in the mood for, little man?" Harry asks him lightly. It's so obvious that he loves kids.

"Figgers!" He yells out. His face is red as he tries to crawl his way out of Harry's arms.

"What's that?" I stand up and pull the boy away from Harry. Theo sticks his tongue out at Harry and cuddles into my chest.

"He's talking about chicken nuggets from McDonald's. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes!" Theo says and wiggles around in my arms. Harry stands up and places his hand on Theo's shoulder and subtly wraps his arm around my waist. I step closer to him and look at the little boy. Harry's eyes are locked on me but I pretend I didn't notice.

Theo stares up at us with a wide smile on his face. I don't hear Greg's quiet, "You look like a proper family." I didn't hear about the picture he took until he left back to Ireland.

_-_-_

"Why don't we just-" Harry stops in the middle of the song as we're practicing.

"Harry," I complain. "we're never going to be able to practice if you keep changing everything."

"I'm not changing everything. I'm just trying to make things easier for you."

"Show night is in three days and we haven't come up with a full dance yet. Quit trying to change things."

"But-"

"No. We do it the way I first showed you. The only changes I'll make are if you can't handle a certain step."

"What about you, though? There's no steps that cause you pain in your foot?" This has been going on since I showed him our dance paired with the song. He automatically started asking for changes. At first, I thought some of the moves were difficult for him so I changed them.

After that he would start requesting changes that he thought were "too fast paced for my injury." Honestly, I haven't felt much pain since Wednesday so I don't understand why he's so adamant that I'm seriously injured and I haven't been feeling better at all.

"I'm fine."

"Are you-"

"Yes, I'm sure." I roll my eyes and pull him back to our starting positions. "Now, we're going to dance the whole way through in the exact way I taught you the first time. If you interrupt, I will cut your dick off, shove it in a blender, and make you drink it."

He rolls his eyes but agrees either way. I mouth the words as he counts out to eight. Right in the middle, Harry trips up a bit.

"Sorry," He apologizes quickly after I help him regain his balance. I just wave it off and move us back to the beginning of the move recent count. He counts aloud again while I continue to mouth the words. We trip up again at the same point.

This continues a few more times. We started over from the beginning a few times and I've since stopped mouthing the words. Every time over we do it again we do it a little bit worse. Finally, when we get to that certain part, I'm unable to keep Harry upright and we both go tumbling to the ground. Harry lands right on his back and I land just to the left of him and I'm sure I've crushed his arm under my weight.

Harry groans, frustrated, as I pull him from the ground. "I told you we should have changed it."

"It's just one part. Here, lets try it with the music and maybe we'll do it better."

"You serious?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It usually worked with all the other people I danced with in previous seasons." His face contorts and he pulls me over to our starting position.

"Let's do it then." He waits quietly as I pull my phone out and look for the song. "No, I want you to sing it."

"What?" I laugh a little, thinking that he's kidding. When his facial expression doesn't change and he takes my phone from me my smile drops. "I don't sing."

"Bull shit, I hear you singing all the time."

"Under my breath, yeah, but not loud enough so anyone can hear."

He scoffs, "I hear you, though, and you're pretty good. And really, doesn't the dancing start at some random point in the middle. We would have to pinpoint exactly when to start when we could really just manual set it by singing it."

"Why don't you sing it, then?"

"I don't know the words." I roll my eyes at his simple explanation and look back down at my phone.

Suddenly, my phone is pulled from my grip right as I was about to click the song. "Hey!" I say, reaching for my phone. Harry is holding it straight into the air where he knows I can't reach. I try jumping to grab it, but he jumps at the same time I do so I'm unable to reach it.

"Just sing! C'mon, it's not that bad. Only one time and then we can go from the recorded version."

I huff and get down from my tip-toes. "I'm thinking you just want to hear me sing."

"Now, where would you ever get that idea from?" He asks sarcastically.

"Fine." He fist pumps the air. "Just this once, though. I still have that dick chopping, shoving in blender and making you drink it idea so don't push it." He smiles widely and begins the first count off.

_-_-_

"For the first time since the season started, I'm actually not that nervous." Harry smiles at me with his arm around my waist. We're the second to go on this night and Harry has been all smiley for some reason. I don't know if I should be glad or worried.

"Good." I smile back at him either way and hug him back. We look up at the screen as they begin to play our practice throughout the week. It shows how we fall and how Harry pressures me into singing. It's very quiet, but audible nonetheless. I send a glare at Harry while he smirks at me.

The video ends and we're introduced, "Dancing Hip-Hop, Harry Styles, and his partner Nicolette Horan."

The starting notes begin before the singing actually begins. Harry begins the count as I mouth the words to him.

"If all we are is just machines, then let's become a miracle and break free from these chains."

The song ends with both of us breathing deeply. He picks me up after a few moments of just the cheering of the audience and our heavy breaths. He spins me around a bit and smiles at me with sparkles of adoration in his eyes. I've never seen this look on anyone's face when they look at me, but I've seen it on my mother when she looked at me when I ordered for the first time alone at a restaurant, back when I was real young. It's a loving look.

He carries me over to the judges table and places me down lightly. Tom and Harry talk a bit and joke around before he directs our attention to the judges. We start with Carrie-Ann who holds a bright smile.

"I just need to say this first before anyone else; I loved you. I loved the affection and emotion you both put into your performance. I was honestly surprised to hear the song choice. When I first heard it I thought you were crazy to think you could make a hip-hop dance and that song work, but you did. It was amazing. I hope you know that none of us were expecting anything like that." She uses wide arm gestures, never losing the smile.

We move onto Bruno. He says something very similar, only he uses much bigger arm motions and doesn't sit down until we move onto Len. "Well, I've seen a lot of hip-hop dances in the time I've been judging and I can promise you that I've never seen anything like that." He pauses for a second and waits for the audience to quiet down. "The steps were original, along with the song. It was put together quite nicely. Good job."

We move onto Julianne who bears the biggest smile. "Was that ending move part of the dance? The one where you lifted Nicolette into the air and spun her?" Harry shakes his head no with a small blush. "It should have been. It was emotional enough to fit in the dance. Anyways, I only have one word to describe what that was and that word is beautiful. There's an obvious connection between the two of you and this dance portrayed it perfectly. I will be expecting some equally as heart-wrenching performances in the future, I hope you know."

Harry and I walk away with smiles his arms are tightly wrapped around my waist as I pull us towards the stairs leading to the Skybox. Half way there, Harry pulls away and takes my hand. He spins me a bit which I try to perfect as best as I can with the little bit of knowledge I have for what he's intending to do. The move is sudden so my feet try to keep up with his mind as he hugs me. I hope the camera got that.

We reach the top of the stairs and head into the marked spot of where to stand as everyone claps around us.

"That was cute. You turned a serious issue into something cute. How do you do it?" Erin asked us with a smile.

I shrug while Harry explains, "Some things can be serious to her and she likes to make people laugh so they forget about the serious issue even if just for a second."

"What about you, though, Harry? I mean, that upright cuddle you shared was enough to make even the angriest of people crack a smile."

I nudge him and look up with a smirk. He blushes. "I was proud of us. Proud of her, I guess. She made me happy that she could do this dance even after the injury so I did, well, that."

"Speaking of the injury; Nicolette, how has that been bothering you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I smile. "It was just a muscle strain. I felt better be Wednesday. This one, though, thought I was on the verge of death so he tried to make me change things around in the dance for me." I jab Harry in the stomach with my elbow.

"Well, that was sweet of him."

"And annoying. I didn't let him change anything to suit me. Any changes - which there actually weren't any - are made to help him."

"I did get her to sing, though." Harry grins proudly and plays with my hair.

"Yeah, we saw that! You're a good singer, Nicolette. But I can say I'm glad you chose the dancing road instead of singing. We're glad you're part of the Dancing With The Stars family."

A few of the dancers pat my back from behind me and I smile. "I'm glad I chose the dancing road too."

Erin says that we will be getting our scores now. All three of us turn towards the large screen and wait.

"Carrie Ann Inaba,"

"Nine," Harry's arm tightens around me.

"Len Goodman,"

"Nine,"

"Julianne Hough,"

"Nine,"

"Bruno Tonioli,"

"Nine." Harry picks me up again in his arms and hugs me tightly. With his hands underneath my thighs and my legs around his waist, everyone around us begins to cheer and congratulate us. It's not the best score out of everyone this season, but it is the best score we have ever received.

Erin begins to explain that we still need the votes if we want to make it to next week. Harry and I have no eyes or ears for her, though, as Harry holds me tightly in his arms. My chin is on his head as he kisses my neck at the awkward angle.

_-_-_

By the end of the night, Harry and I come in third place on the leader board, only two points behind Demi and Louis who are in first.

Harry has invited me over to sleep over at his house. I'm kind of exhausted so I agree. Greg tags along also after Harry tells him that he should come too. I'm not sure if he did it for my sake, or because he knows that Greg is leaving tomorrow and I won't be able to say goodbye.

"Uhm, I didn't actually think this through." Harry laughs awkwardly as he shows us into the house.

"What do you mean?" I ask, slipping off my flats.

"I forgot I only have one properly made guest room. All the other rooms are used for something else," He scratches the back of his neck with a blush forming on his cheeks. I refrain from laughing at him.

"I'll sleep on the couch, then." I offer, already heading towards the living area. It's not as bad as he thinks because his couch is more comfortable than my own bed.

"No, why don't you sleep in my room?" Harry grabs me by the wrist and pulls me back. I face him and we share a stare before Greg speaks up.

"Don't make it difficult. Just sleep together and you'll be fine." Greg shifts the sleeping Theo in his arms. I know he wants to head to bed because he has to wake up early tomorrow, but he doesn't want to be rude and just barge into Harry's guest room.

"But-" Harry and I both begin the protest.

"C'mon, it's not like you'll be doing anything bad. You'll be sleeping and that's it." After Harry and I share an awkward glance, Greg continues. "Look, I need to get him in a bed before he wakes back up. I'll take the couch if you don't want to sleep together."

"No, I couldn't ask either of you to do that. Ni, just sleep in my bed." Greg raises his eye brows at Harry's use of my old nickname.

"It's your house." I point out, trying to head over to the couch again. Harry's fingers slip down to my hand, gripping around it. He tugs a bit on it, making me turn back around.

He stares into my eyes with a small frown on his face. I eye him up as he silently pleads me to take up his offer to sleep in his bed. I glance over at Greg who is busy staring down at our hands. Theo then yawns and begins to complain he's cold.

"Guys," Greg says, bouncing Theo slightly.

"I'll take the couch." Harry says. Before I can stop, he walks into the lounge and plops down on the couch. Greg shrugs and reaching for the light switch for the stairs.

"Second door on the right." I nonchalantly direct him to the guest bedroom while staring at Harry trying to get comfortable. He nods before wishing me goodnight.

Harry lays flat on the couch, stuffing his hands up under one of the throw pillows. I roll my eyes and walk into the lounge. He opens one eye and sends me an annoyed look.

"Just sleep in my room, Nicolette. It's no big deal." Harry closes his eye again.

I shake my head, even though he can't see me. My feet carry me towards the loveseat that's against the wall. It's just as comfortable as the couch, only a bit shorter.

Harry opens his eyes again when he hears me sit down. "What are you doing?"

"Going to bed, obviously." I smile at him innocently as he groans. I refuse to sleep in his bed. My parents always taught me to take the lesser of the choices when I'm a guest because it's polite. Whether it be the guest room, couch, or the floor, you take what's there.

It's one of the few policies I live by that was taught to me by my parents.

"Nic, don't do this." Harry sits up with a sigh.

"Hey, I don't care if you sleep in your bed or not. Either way, I'm still the guest. The couch is fine for me. I was actually originally planning- what are you doing?" I stop when Harry stands and walks toward me. He ignores me; instead, he picks me up the way he did after we danced tonight. My legs wrap around his waist as if on instinct.

Harry carries me from the living room up to his bedroom, where he pulls the comforter, under blanket and sheets back before placing me in a laying position. I whine when he covers me up and asks if I need another pillow or if I'm hot or cold under the sheet and blanket.

"Harry," I say. "stop."

"I'll be right downstairs if you need anything. Don't refrain from waking me if you-"

"At least stay with me." I interrupt.

"What?"

"If it's necessary that I sleep in here, then you must sleep in here too." My fingers are wrapped around his wrist since he tried to walk away.

"Nicolette-" He tries to argue.

"If you don't, I'll go right back to that couch." I threaten. He sighs, looking back in the hallway. He pulls his hand from my grasp and walks toward the door. "Harry," I try, already sitting up out of the bed. I stop moving, though, when he closes the door to the point where there's just a crack.

He comes back to the bed with a frown. He eyes me up before pulling back the sheets and face-planting into the pillow. I laugh a little, lying back down.

He faces me. "I hate you,"

I laugh a little, closing my eyes. "No you don't."

He chuckles too, whispering something inaudible for me to hear. I fall asleep within a few minutes, not knowing that Harry was watching me sleep.

_-_-_

Later on in the night, while I'm still sleeping, Greg knocks on Harry's bedroom door lightly. Harry is still awake so he whispers that Greg is allowed in.

"Looks like you took my advice." Greg points out.

"What advice?" Harry tears his gaze from me and looks at my brother.

"To sleep in the same bed,"

"Yeah," Harry chuckles, "she's a stubborn one."

"Yeh, been like that ever since we were kids." Greg plays with his fingers for a second, looking down at his toes. "Hey, can I talk to you?"

"You already are," Harry points out, trying to hide the wave of worry that overtakes his body at Greg's serious tone.

"Alright, smart-ass. I mean in private. Don't want her waking up," Greg motions to the door behind him with his head. Harry looks over at me for a second before pulling the quilts off his body and following after my brother.

Harry is nervous as Greg settles himself down on the couch. Greg motions Harry to sit next to him, but Harry walks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water. He feels he might need it in case there's a moment when he needs to think about a reply.

"Do you want anything?" Harry calls from the refrigerator. Greg calls out that he's fine and that Harry should really come sit down already.

"Stop putting this off. You need to have this conversation with someone, and chances are you'll never meet our parents so I'm your next best bet." Harry begins sweating at Greg's words. It's obvious that Harry has had this crush, but he never expected for Greg to pick up on it so quickly.

Harry goes back into the living room and sits on the opposite side of the couch. Greg rolls his eyes and leans back onto the armrest.

"So," Greg starts with a cough. "you like my sister."

Harry takes a drink from his water bottle a little too quickly. He starts coughing, a bit of water splashing out of the bottle as he spasms. Greg scoots over to Harry and takes the bottle from his hands. He then starts to pat Harry on the back.

Harry calms down a few seconds later, breathing in deeply.

"Uhm, I-"

"It wasn't a question." Greg cuts him off. "I know you like her. Seriously, I don't know how she hasn't noticed. It's so obvious."

Harry looks down and plays with the wet spot on the couch. His other hand lies limp in his lap, currently useless.

"I don't know how long you've liked her for, but I know it must have been a while because you get jealous so easily."

"Well, I mean..." He trails off, still picking at the couch. "I knew there was something different about her even before we met."

"Different? What do you mean?" Greg leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee.

"I-I don't know... something just drew me in, I guess."

Greg leans back again, releasing a sigh. He knows that I wouldn't dare tell one of the Stars I've danced with. I'm only stuck with them for, at most, 13 weeks. That's not long enough to be able to reveal my kind of secret unless I was really open with who I once was.

"You're right." Harry looks up at my brother, raising an eyebrow. "About Nic being different. She's... a lot more different than you've ever thought."

"What do you mean?" Harry lowers his voice, as if there was someone listening in on there private conversation.

"Nothing. How did you know she was different?" Greg changes the subject quickly. Harry eyes him up but doesn't comment on it.

"I don't really know. I've seen videos of her dancing before I was offered the opportunity to actually go on the show. I actually wasn't going to be on the show until they told me that she was my partner." Harry smiles slightly, as if he's reminiscing on something. "The way she danced was just... captivating. She puts everything in every dance each and every week. And then the way she would teach the person she was with. She is strict, I have to say that. She doesn't like when I refuse to do something or when I fight her on a certain move. She pushes me to my limit. Is it bad that I love it?"

"Kind of, yeah." My brother laughs at the fond smile and embarrassed blush that has overtaken Harry's face.

"She kept me interested. I saw the way that... that some of the Stars she once was paired with didn't like how she taught. It's weird with her; she'll come into work wearing a sweat-shirts and baggy clothes, but she never made it look like she rolled out of bed. She's usually wide awake and sometimes hyper, and I don't think many liked that." Harry's face contorts into a scowl.

"You sound so smitten with her. It's disgustingly cute." Greg smiles a little before a frown overtakes his features. "Look, Harry..."

"Yeah?" Harry's scowl turns into a frown also at Greg's tone.

"Nicolette... she's much different than you think. She's gone through so much, so much more than you think. She puts her all into dancing for a reason."

"Yeah," Harry sighs. "I know."

"You do?" Greg asks incredulously.

"Yeah. I've figured out that she only knows how to express herself when she's dancing."

"Right," Greg says. He's quiet for a moment before carrying on. "Harry, there's something important that Nicolette isn't telling you."

"Well, I figured as much." Harry bites his lip.

"No, I mean... something really important. The reason why she hasn't come home in seven years. The reason she only expresses herself through dancing. The reason she wears baggy clothes."

Both Harry and Greg lean forward into each other. Harry has sucked in a breath that he's hoping to let out when he's told that this really important thing isn't anything life-threatening.

"I..." Greg goes on. "I cannot tell you what it is." Harry huffs childishly and releases the breath. "I can, however, give you my blessing."

"Y-your blessing?"

"To date my sister." Greg takes Harry's hand and shakes it. "I trust you to keep her happy."

Harry nods slowly, acknowledging Greg's one-way handshake. If he had a hat, he would tip it in Greg's direction.

"Hopefully Nic will tell you, one day."

_-_-_

When I wake up the next day, not knowing of the conversation from only hours before, Harry's arm is wrapped around my waist and his chest presses to my back from behind. Greg is already gone.


	14. Switch

The next night, Roseanne and Keo have been kicked off. It was kind of expected since they have been closer to the bottom of the leader board ever since the season started.

At the end of the night, all the remaining couples - there's now eight of us - are brought out on stage for the seasonal "Switch-Up Night". A few years ago, the manager wanted the viewers to get more active in the show so the team got together and thought up the idea to have the Stars switch with a different dancer due to fan favourite request. I have a feeling who I will be stuck with for the next week and who Harry will be with too.

I haven't told Harry about this Switch Up Night only because I knew he would hate the idea of it. Everyone knows how fond he is of me and they all joke that he would go ape-shit crazy if someone even attempted to try and dance with me. I just laughed it off but I didn't deny it, mostly because I knew it was true.

Harry sends me a confused face when they huddle everyone up to bring us out on stage for the last time that night. I just smile sheepishly and link our arms together while following behind the couple in front of us.

The pairings go by fast. Mitch and Jack switch partners while Amy and Lorde switch partners. Demi and Zoe switch, followed by Harry and Zayn. Harry is furious, I can just tell by the way he walks over to Peta. I smile a little uneasily as Zayn wraps his arm around me from behind and places his head on my shoulder. I'm only about an inch shorter than him - a weird difference between mine and Harry's four inch height difference.

After the show ends, Harry stalks up to me. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" He demands. I just shrug while picking up my phone and charger to take home. Zayn is on the other side of the room, also collecting his things to take home with him.

"I didn't find it important to mention." I ignore his harsh tone. Harry grabs my hand and pulls me a bit so I will face toward him, which I eventually do after I check my phone for a notification. I don't have any which makes me lock my phone and stuff it into my sweatshirt pocket.

"Hey, Nicolette." Zayn's voice sounds from a few feet away. He's walking up to me with a smirk as he eyes Harry up. Harry glares at him and steps closer to me, placing his hand at the bottom of my back. "I was wondering if you wanted to get to the studio early tomorrow morning to discuss what our dance should be? Our theme is Jive..."

"Yeah, that's when. When in the morning?"

"Whenever you're ready." Zayn's phone chimes in his pocket and he pulls it out for a second. "That's my cue to leave. I'm looking forward to our week together." As if Harry murdering him with his eyes wasn't enough, Zayn lifts my hand and places a gentle peck to the knuckle. He rubs his fingers over the cool spot to make it warm again before dropping my hand and heading away from us.

I turn back towards Harry who is shooting sniper bullets at him from his eyes. "Hey, calm down. It's only for a week." I try to make him feel better by standing in front of him and tilting his head to look at me. His eyes are still hard but I can physically see his face softening as he looks at me.

"If he continues like that, he won't make it through the week." Harry grumbles. I roll my eyes and pull him into a hug. He gasps a little because I'm usually not the one to initiate things like this, but hugs me back after a few moments of just me patting his back.

Both his arms are places heavily around me as his shoulders sag onto my own. He curls into my while still standing upright and I have trouble holding almost all his body weight. My neck cranks so I can rest my head on his shoulder comfortably. I look out at any of the remaining couples left. Louis and Liam have joined up a bit to share a few things about their Stars with each other. Louis is staring directly at me as Liam side glances with a small smile.

Harry's breathing goes back to normal as he pulls away from the hug. He doesn't get too far away though when he holds my hips, rubbing around with his thumbs. He's silent only for a second before a self-conscious mutter is let out from him. "Promise you'll come back to me?"

The sound of his voice causes my heart to crack a bit around the edges. His voice is so deep and raw, while also managing to be small and insecure. Almost as if he was just woken up from a dream that took a bad turn. It makes me want to wipe the frown off his face and hug him for much longer than I was intending to.

Instead of replying with something snarky, I give him a small smile. "Sadly, I don't think I'll even not be able to come back to you." Whether it's true or not is another story, but Harry's smile makes me want it to be.

_-_-_

"Are you sure we should do this song? Does it even go well with our dance?" Zayn asks on Thursday after I showed him my song choice. Much like last week, I had trouble figuring out a good song that would fit in with the dance that I made, but I finally figured out one last night.

"Yeah. It's a good Jive kind of song and it goes well with the moves."

Zayn looks back down at the laptop where the Michael Jackson song had just finished playing on my YouTube account. He studies it for a moment before sighing and agreeing that it would be okay.

I don't know why I asked for his consent. Really, I don't care whether he liked it or not because I wouldn't have changed it anyway.

Zayn and I dance for a bit. Kind of like Harry, he stumbles a bit but I don't think about it because I know everyone does. Even professional dancers have trouble with some moves.

"Why do you wear sweatshirts?" He asks me during a water break.

"Because I want to." Is my simple reply as I screw the cap off my bottle.

"Doesn't it get hot in that?" He pushes, playing with a loose thread coming off his own shirt.

"Yeah, but I'm used to it."

It's silent for a few moments. He's still playing with the thread as I close my water bottle and set it back down. Zayn speaks up again, though, and I wasn't expecting what he said.

"You should wear form fitting clothes more often. They look good on you." I send him a disgusted look but he continues. "You're really skinny; you shouldn't feel like you have to hide under those baggy clothes."

"I'm not hiding." I point out, looking down at my own clothes before raising my eyebrows at him. 

"You have a beautiful body, but people never get to see it because you're always covered up."

"Look, that's very sweet of you, but this show isn't about how much clothes I wear during the practice. It's about famous people seeing if they can dance."

"But--" I cut him off as he tries to continue on. It's obvious he's not very good at flirting. Last I heard, he had a girlfriend but that's none of my concern unless things get too far.

"C'mon, again. From the beginning, only a little slower. We'll get you up to full speed in no time."

_-_-_

Over the next few days, Zayn had continued to make small, meaningless advances toward me. We had perfected the dance the day of his first one so we've had an awful lot of free time.

I know that at least one of his flirty antics will make it into our week's recap, and I know that Harry will flip shit if he knows Zayn did that and I didn't warn him. He's not a dangerous person, not at all; I do know, though, that Harry will stop at no extent to protect me from his rival.

That's why, on Sunday night before the show, I call Harry and ask him over to my own apartment to talk. Harry agrees within seconds and tells Peta in the background that he has something important to tend to. I'm sure Peta is alright with it, as long as they have perfected their own dance.

Harry comes knocking at my door less than 20 minutes later. It kind of worries me how fast he had arrived - whether he was at the studio or his own house, Hollywood traffic is shit at this time.

"Hi." He smiles when I first open the door.

"Is this important enough to tend to?" I make fun of what he said to Peta before he left. He blushes a little before asking if he can come in. I move out of the way, motioning my hand behind me while keeping the other on the door so I can close it after him.

"Everything involving you is important." He says.

"Yeah, right." I jokingly bow towards my couch in a way of telling him to sit down. He snorts and plops down on the left side, propping his head against his knuckles as he digs his elbow into the arm rest. I scurry past him into the kitchen, grabbing two Swiss Rolls and a few bottles of water.

When I return, I place the water bottles on the table and drop the snack onto his lap. He looks down at him before picking it up and raising an eyebrow. "This is unhealthy." He notes, playing with the loud wrapper.

"Shut up and eat it." I roll my eyes at him and his stupid healthy all the time policy, ripping my own snack open. I try to successfully unroll one of the rolls so I can lick the cream off from the inside, but that idea goes down the drain when the rolled up part falls off from the part I've already unrolled. I curse under my breath, "Fuck it." Harry watches on with an awestruck facial expression. When he notices me looking, he smiles sheepishly and opens his own wrapper.

"So," Harry starts after stuffing an entire roll in his mouth and chewing. "why did you invite me over?"

I laugh at his puffed out cheeks. I'm glad he's comfortable enough around me to not be, well, a proper posh Brit who's having tea with their nan. "I have something to tell you." He nods, telling me to go on. "It's about me and Zayn."

His face falls as he swallows hard. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." He gulps again as I try to gather all my words together. "I'm only telling you this because he did it a lot and I know you'll freak out if you find out through our recap video."

"Did he kiss you?" He practically spits, standing up. I grab his hand as he tries to walk past me.

"No! Harry, stop!" I tug on him as he tries to get out of my grip.

"I'm gonna kill him if he--"

"He didn't kiss me! Shut up and let me finish." He looks back at me before huffing and sitting back down. He picks up his discarded Swiss Roll wrapper that fell on the floor and plays with the plastic.

"Well? What did he do?"

"Look, it was just useless flirting and advances. I didn't give him the reaction he was hoping for, but he still did it."

"Oh." He pauses, trying to collect his words. "I'm still going to kill him."

"Harry!" I scoff.

"What? That was disrespectful, especially if you didn't show a positive reaction to it."

"Harry, it's fine." I shrug off his underlying jealousy and take a sip from my water bottle.

"He just--"

"We'll be dancing together again within a few days, anyway. Now turn off your guard dog and come here because, sad enough that I have to admit it, but I missed you this week." I stand up and open my arms with a little blush on my cheeks. Harry looks at me as if I'm crazy before springing out of his position and tackling me back onto the couch.

He pulls away only a second later, "You're not lying, are you?"

"Of course not. I actually missed you." He smirks a little and opens his mouth, but I hold his lips together with my thumb and forefinger. "And before you even think about teasing me, I have a full assortment of knives in my kitchen just waiting to cut your dick off."

He laughs little, not taking me seriously. I raise an eyebrow and his eyes widen, before he buries his face into my neck. I giggle a little as he breathes because it tickles.

I hug him back just as tightly. He places his hands under my thighs and lifts me up when he stands. I pull back and look at him, as he only smirks before bringing us into my kitchen. It's a bit small, considering I own a one bedroom apartment made to house one. He sets me on the counter gently, taking his hands away.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he opens up my refrigerator.

"I'm going to make us some dinner. Well, if I can find anything to make." He sighs at his choices he finds in the fridge and freezer.

"I only cook when I feel like it."

"What do you know how to make?" He asks, opening my cupboard and looking at my different kids of cereals and quick canned meals.

"Uhm, not much. Chicken, burgers, lasagna. Homemade stew if I'm not feeling too lazy." Harry laughs.

"Hm, that's funny, since I didn't find any of those options in your cabinets."

"Yeah, I usually live off of what the Studio offers during dancing season." I shrug at my horrible diet. The only person I've ever had to cook for is myself, and I'm usually too busy catching up on Netflix t.v. shows and sleeping to actually make something of any nutritional value. Fast food restaurant employees know me well during the months that the show isn't aired.

"C'mon, we're going shopping." He grabs my hand and helps me off the counter. When he tries to pull me out my front door is when I refuse.

"No, you remember what happened last time we went shopping together? Why can't we just get take away?"

"Do you remember what happened the last time we got take away together?"

"Touché," I mutter, grabbing my shoes to slip on. He grins smugly as I grab a sweatshirt.

He leads me out to his car and opens the door for me. I roll my eyes and step in, tugging on the door to close it myself. He jogs over to the other side and gets in, starting the engine quickly. He takes off out of the parking lot and goes to the nearest shopping centre. We arrive within a few minutes.

"Did you put your safety belt on?" He asks. I look up at the strap which is still lying in it's original position.

"I forgot."

"How did you forget?"

"I ride on buses all the time. That doesn't come with a seat belt so I just forgot."

"I'll remind you next time. It's dangerous not to wear one."

"You basically just said your driving sucks and you want me safe when you get in a crash."

He glares at me, "My driving is great, thank you."

"Lies."

"You can't argue with a kangaroo, Nicolette. It's a known fact."

"You're a fucking idiot."

_-_-_

The night of the show, Louis and I are chilling around back stage as Zayn gets finished with his hair and make-up. Harry and Peta have already performed and have come out with a 37. They're a good duo and look good together on the dance floor. Although, before they get their judges scores, Harry did say that, even though he enjoyed dancing with Peta, he can't wait to get back to dancing with me. Everyone in the audience clap and coo at him.

Zayn and I are two dances away Louis goes on right after us. We're talking about how we think we will do.

"I'm not really sure. It's obvious that Amy isn't used to my dancing style and way of teaching. Liam is new here so I'm guessing he would change things for her because she requested it. I don't do that shit." Louis says. I'm pretty sure they will do fine because Louis is a really good teacher and, bases on Amy and Liam's previous scores, she's pretty good as well. "What about you and Zayn?"

"I think we will be fine. Zayn's alright on his feet and he doesn't seem too nervous. We also have a pretty easy dance for a Switch-Up Night."

"What do you have?"

"Jive,"

"Bro, that's like a week one dance. Holy shit, why couldn't I have gotten that?" Louis complains at mine and Zayn's luck.

"Because the world hates you." I laugh at him as he pouts. At that moment, both Harry and Zayn come over to me. I'm unsure who starting walking over first, but I do know that Zayn arrives quicker than Harry. "Are you ready?" I ask Zayn.

He smiles at me a little, glancing out the corner of his eye at Harry who is watching us with envious eyes. "Yeah, can't wait to get out there with you."

"Well, we've still got a bit of a wait. Do you wanna practice one more time?" Zayn nods and takes my hand to pull me up off the chair I was sitting in. Louis watches us with an amused gaze as Harry clenches his jaw. His eyes glance down at our joined hands and back up to me.

The announcer announces the next dance as me and Zayn begin our practice. A few dancers and Stars watch us and clap when we finish. Harry has sat down in my previous chair and keeps his eyes locked on me. Peta has come up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her with a sad frown as she sends him a knowing smile.

Tom calls for another commercial break after Demi and Liam get their scores. They come rushing back stage with smiles on their face. They embrace one more time as a few people congratulate them on the high score.

"Hey, Louis!" I call out, getting his attention. He turns his head and looks at me. I motion to Liam and Demi who are now standing by the snack table, eating crisps. "Looks like Demi likes Liam's way of teaching too."

Louis sticks his tongue out at me before looking up at Amy, who has since tapped his shoulder. They converse a few words before Louis stands up and heads in the way of the stylist to fix his hair that he's messed up.

"Alright, here we go." Zayn says as we go over to the side of the stage. The crew has finished setting up our set and we're just waiting for the commercial break to finish. Harry comes over and rubs my shoulder lightly before I turn around to face him. He smiles a little.

"Good luck." He whispers. "I'll be in the Skybox waiting for you to come up."

"Alright. Thanks, Harry." He leans forward and spreads his arms to hug me. Before he does though, Zayn clears his throat.

"We have to go, Nic." He motions to the screen above the stage that is playing our week recap.

"Right." I say, hugging Harry quickly. He looks sad when I pull away, but I smile at him and motion up at the Skybox. "I'll be looking out for you." I say, walking away backwards. He smiles lightly, and I'm sure he chuckles, but I don't have the time to catch him doing so.

"Dancing the Jive, Zayn Malik, and his partner, Nicolette Horan."

Zayn and I begin dancing right as the music starts, going along to the words.

"The way you make me feel, you really turn me on. You knock me off of my feet, my lonely days are gone."

The dance goes by pretty fast. The Jive is one of the easiest dances in my opinion, and I'm guessing Zayn thinks so too when he's barely out of breath by the time we get over to the judge's table.

All of them praise us for dancing well and not messing up. It's like a regular night; Carrie Ann and Julianne are all happy to praise us, Bruno was already standing before he even began talking like he usually does, and Len was booed once when he made a comment that wasn't purely praise.

Zayn links his hand in mine as we're walking up the stairs. Everyone is cheering for us when we get to the top. Harry is sitting right next to the stair's entrance and he has a little smile on his face as he claps.

Zayn then lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. My eyes flash over to him in a confused manner before they set back on Harry. His smile had dropped as he eyes our linked hands. I try to pull away from Zayn, but he refused. Instead, he pulls me closer into his side and wraps his arm around my waist and squeezes my hip slightly. My eyes connect with Harry's again as he's now scowling and shaking his head.

I know why Zayn is doing this. He's not one to fight - that's obvious by the way he deals with rumours. I do know, though, that he loves to get a rise out of Harry. Harry is seen as a sweet boy with strangely flamboyant shirts and long hair that makes a beautiful messy bun in the media. He doesn't show his anger to people, but when he does, it's scary. That's exactly what Zayn's been going at throughout this entire week.

His main goal is unknown to me, but I do know that if Harry lashes out in any way to Zayn on screen, there will be consequences.

And that's exactly what happens.

After Zayn and I get a score of four straight eights, he presses a chaste kiss to my cheek, dangerously close to my lips. We're still standing in front of the camera because Erin has yet to call back to Tom. Zayn then whispers some gibberish into my ear, his lips touching my earlobe.

After he does this, I glance back at Harry. His eyebrows are furrowed as he tries to refrain from saying something.

It's what Zayn says next, loud enough for only Harry and I to hear, that makes him flip.

"Do you want to come back to mine after the show is over?"

Harry bolts up. His eyes are set in a dangerously dark stare in Zayn's direction. Zayn knows what he's doing as Harry stalks up to him and pulls me out from Zayn's grasp. His hold on my arm is tight but I don't dare to ask him to let go, in fear that he'll come after me.

I trip over my feet when he does this and go crashing into Harry's chest. His other arm wraps tightly around me. I'm unsure if the camera is still set on the Skybox, but if it is, then all the viewers at home and in the audience are witnessing this.

"You wouldn't dare take her back to yours." Harry voice is low and threatening.

A single eyebrow raises on Zayn's head, "That is none of your concern."

"Yes, it is."

"She's not a dog, Harry. She can do what she wants."

"That's not for you to decide!" His voice raises. I jump a bit, as do many of the other dancers and Stars that are in the Skybox. Harry's finger rubs my back at little as an apology.

Zayn smirks a little, glancing at the light on the camera that makes it known if they're still recording. The red light is lit. "It's not for you to decide, either. Now, Ni." Zayn purposely uses the nickname Harry had re-given me. "Would you like to come around mine later on?"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Harry yells, causing most of the audience to go completely silent. I jump again and pull myself from Harry's arms, utterly terrified of him. He doesn't act the same way he usually does when he's not angry. This man is not the same man I have danced with for the last five weeks.

Zayn smiles smugly and walks off from the camera's view. My eyes are set on Harry, though, as he tries to calm his breathing. Erin begins talks again, finally calling out for a commercial break. The recording light goes off, as does the On-Air sign.

Harry's breathing is erratic. His eyes are watery and his nose is stuffed. What Zayn said must have really impacted him.

His hand reaches out a little. I eye it silently before bringing my gaze back up to Harry's face. His eyes are broken and pleading, although I don't know what he's asking for. He then looks down at his hand, motioning me to it.

Quietly, I step forward and take his hand in mine. He sighs a little, pulling me toward him gently. I comply and allow him to wrap his arms around me. The feeling of his lips on my forehead is expected, as is the wetness that is soon added to my hair from his tears.

We both know of the consequences that will arise, but neither of us worry about it.


	15. Contemporary

I was right about having to face consequences for Harry's actions. By the next morning - I slept over at Harry's house again - there were paparazzi and fans outside the studio waiting for us to come in. Louis had texted me and told me that him and Demi were mobbed and questioned when they tried to go in and receive next week's dance. I didn't think to ask him for ours.

By 11, Harry hasn't come out from his bedroom. I had since gotten up, made myself a pot of coffee, drank half of it, and eaten a slice of toast. I know I need to go in to tell Harry that we need to go in to get our dance, but I'm kind of afraid to wake him.

At noon, I finally decide to go in and get him. The longer we wait, the less amount of time we'll have to practice.

"Harry?" I call out when I first open the door. He's lying flat on his bed with his phone propped up on his pillow. He's awake because I can see his finger scrolling on whatever page he's on. "Harry, c'mon. You've got to get up." My feet carry me into the room so I can sit on the end of his bed. He's lying above the covers so I know he feels my hand on his back.

"Or maybe I could just stay bundled up here and never move again." He croaks. His voice makes it obvious that he is or was crying at some point.

"I get that feeling all the time but it never seems to work out too well. Might as well give up now." I try. He doesn't move and I pat his back a little. "Please, Harry. At least get up to eat something. That's all I ask."

He groans but still doesn't move. I sigh out and lift myself up off the bed. I walk closer to I can see his face. His eyes are squinted open away from the window where light is seeping through his curtains. He's frowning and his face has turned pale.

"Look, I'm gonna go--"

"No! Please don't leave." He bolts up in his bed. I jump a little at his sudden action, moving back from my leaning position on his bedside table. "I keep scaring you, dammit!" I'm sure he was planning on thinking that, but in his plan to make me stay longer, he's screamed it out.

"Hey, what? I'm not scared." I say, stepping back up to him.

"Yes you are! I shouted last night and you jumped, I shouted again and you pulled away from me. Just then, I yelled and you stepped away again."

I sit down on the edge of the bed, grabbing onto his hands. He looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. I tangle the fingers on my right hand with his left hand fingers and reach my other hand up to wipe under his eyes. My hand then rests on his cheek, rubbing my pinkie finger back and forth to his bottom eyelid and back.

He leans into my hand, letting me continue the motion. His eyes close and he bites his bottom lip, which is chapped and almost cracked down the middle.

"I'm not scared of you." He shakes his head. "Listen to me, Harry. I'm not scared of you. I've never been scared of you. Yeah, you did raise your voice and startled me, but I'm not scared of you. I pulled away because it startled me. I was never scared of you."

Harry looks down at his lap. I let my hand slip off of his cheeks to rest on his shoulder.

"Listen," I sigh, raising my legs up onto the bed and putting them next to where Harry is sitting curled up. I pull my pant legs down a little to cover my ankles. "I need to go in and get this week's dance for us. You can stay here if you would like, but I really think you should see what it's like outside the studio. Louis told me--"

"I've already seen it." Harry says, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"What?"

"I said-- I've already seen it. That's what I was going through when you first walked in. It's all over Twitter. A few of the pictures had Louis and Demi in them. There's a whole battle between my fans and Zayn's fans if my outburst was provoked or uncalled for." Harry unlocks his phone and shows me the page where Twitter is still open.

"Oh. Well," I scroll through a few of the tweets. I click on one account's tweet and see a whole group of people under the tweet giving their side of the argument. "I still think you should come in. Maybe you could talk to some of the press and get this all sorted out."

He presses his cold toes against my own, skimming over the faded black nail polish that's still left on my toenails from a few months ago. "Are you sure that will work? I mean, they twist everything I say. I'd be better off just sending out a tweet saying sorry." He sighs.

"Maybe. I don't know." I've never had to deal with this kind of drama before. All my previous Stars had a much small fanbase than Harry has. They've never brought a literal crowd outside of the studio because of something.

"Sometimes, I wish I never got past boot camp at X-Factor. Maybe I'd still be in my little local band back home." His eyes are staring down at our feet which are pressed up against each other. His toes are cold against the top of my foot, causing me to shiver a little. "My life would have been so much easier."

"Shut up." I say. He looks up with a short gasp of breath at my sudden outburst. "Don't let this bring you down. I've seen much worse things happen between celebrities. So you yelled at Zayn for making advances? Beyoncé's sister attacked Jay Z in a fucking elevator. Your outburst is child's play." Harry snickers at my last remark.

"You do have a point." He said.

"Of course I do." I smirk a little. "C'mon, get up. We've got some press waiting on us."

He groans a little, falling back into his pillow. "Can't I stay in bed a little longer? It's only..." He presses on the home button to his phone to check the time. His eyes widen and he sits up again. "Never mind."

I laugh loudly at him, not even noticing how it reverted back to the one I used to have when I thought I was a boy.

_-_-_

We arrive at the Studio about an hour later. Harry had spent an exorbitant amount of time in the bathroom, although he came out not looking much different. He just put on one of his weird shirts and his hair up in a bun. I roll my eyes at the motorcycles that are littered all over his top half. 

He notices my eye roll and winks at me before unbuttoning another button on the shirt.

When we're parked and ready to head inside, Harry looks over at me nervously. "I changed my mind. I'm taking us home." He puts the keys back in the ignition and starts the car again. I reach over the console and pull the keys out, stuffing them in my sweatshirt. "Ni, please." He gives me a child-like begging face, reaching his hand out to take the keys. I open the car door and get out, still holding the keys inside my pocket so he doesn't reach in and take them.

"No, Harry." I say when I arrive at his door. He's opened it but is still buckled into the seat. "C'mon. I'll be right there beside you." I reach my hand out for him to take.

He eyes my hand before looking up at my face. I smile at him, a persuading look that I liked to use on my parents when I was younger. He sighs before unclipping the safety belt and taking my hand in his. He steps out of the car, closing the door and letting me lock it since I still have his keys.

He plays around with our hands for a moment, tangling our fingers instead of just holding. My thumb rubs against his in a soothing manner. He tries to hide his smile but I can see it either way.

We walk out of the parking garage, not yet catching the attention of anyone in the crowd. They're all still facing the studio, many pressed up against the fence. trying to get a shot of anyone inside the building. Luckily, the studio doesn't have any windows so no one inside will be seen.

It only takes one person to turn their head and scream out that we're here for the entire crowd to mob around us. Harry pulls me closer and wraps his arm around my waist, protecting me from the advancing group of people.

"Harry!" Many girls scream, trying to reach toward us. Harry moves us forward in the crowd slowly as I type out a message to Louis so he knows to inform some security to let us in.

There are many questions swirling around us. Most of them are about Harry's outburst last night, although some are about his supposed relationship with me. We're both waiting until we're inside the fence to answer any of the questions.

Louis comes running out with many security guards on his tail, motioning over to us and saying something to them. He catches my eye contact and too comes near the fence to help get some people back. He's definitely not the strongest person ever, but he can be quite intimidating when he tries.

"Give them some space!" I've somehow heard Louis' voice cut through everyone else's. He gets a few people to back off, but there's a much larger group of people that aren't as respectful than those few people. The guards then begin to take over, holding enough people back so Harry, Louis and I are able to slip through and get inside the safe confinements of the fence.

Harry and I are both breathing harder than we were when we first got here. The air was thick and I'm still trying to get the feeling of so many hands off my body. Harry has since let go of my waist, leaving our hands entwined as the bodyguards file back in through the door quickly. The door is slammed shut and locked behind the last one.

"Really, you're an idiot." I tune Louis' voice back into my hearing. We have to talk louder so we can hear each other over the still rowdy crowd.

"What?" I ask, my breathing almost completely back to normal.

"I told you about the media attention and the crowding outside the studio. You didn't think to bring even one security guard with you? Really, Nic." Louis chastises us. I roll my eyes and punch him in the chest. He recoils back a few steps, coughing a few times.

"We weren't thinking about that. We just came in to get our dance and try to clear some of this shit up." I say, shaking Harry's hand out of mine. He looks up to me with a small frown, until it's replaced with a smile when I step closer and place his arm around me.

Louis glances between us, eyeing us both up with a complicated look set on his face. He seems to be contemplating if he should say anything. He settles on a sigh, muttering a quiet, "Okay. I'll see you guys in there in a few minutes, yeah?"

"Yeah." Harry smiles at him. Louis smiles back at both of us, nodding before walking back into the Studio, the guards following close behind him. Harry then looks down at me, his smile dropping a little. "I'm scared."

"You sound like we're about to go out on the ballroom dance floor." I tease him for the many times he's been nervous before our weekly performance.

"Yeah, well, it's kind of the same. I'm going out in front of people and doing something that could make or break me."

He takes in a shaky breath. All jokes aside from me, I begin to worry if that's how he's felt all season. "You seriously think if you're a shit dancer, all your fans will leave you?"

"Maybe." He's looking down. I pull him in closer to the studio so we can hear each other better. Also, I don't want any of the fans getting this conversation on the phones to release out for everyone to hear.

"Harry," I say, my thumb rubbing the back of his.

"Everything happens so fast nowadays. Everything." He starts, although I don't really know what he means.

"What are you talking about?"

"People. There are people who were in the spotlight not too long ago and they're completely irrelevant now. People that deserve to be kept there are dropped so quickly. I don't want that to happen to me. Sure, I may be big now, but what about in a month? A year? Things happen so quickly in my life and I'm just so afraid that I'll be dropped just like a lot of people that we're in the scene." He's looking down at the ground with a frown on his face. I don't really know how to help with him with this because I don't know how it feels.

I do, however, know how it feels to be dropped so fast by people you we're hoping to always be on your side.

"Harry..." I whisper, trying to make him lift his head and look at me. Today seems to be all about keeping Harry happy. "Harry, look at me, please." It takes him a few seconds, but he does lift his head and when our eyes meet, my breath hitches.

His eyes are glossed over but he's not crying. Some of his hair has fallen loose from his bun and is covering his forehead. The green of his eyes is intense because of the strong sunlight and the tears that bring out the colour.

He's beautiful.

"I probably sound crazy." He sniffles, wiping his eyes.

"No, no you don't. You sound like any other human." He's still sniffling, but instead of letting him deal with this on his own, I pat his hand away and wipe under his eyes with my thumbs. "Listen, Harry... I'm not going to say you'll have all your fans forever, because you won't. People grow up, they move on. They get over certain artists and move on to others. But that's the thing, with every fan you lose, you get 10 more. People will grow away from you as other people get into you."

"What about the constants, though? Are there any constants in my life?" He's taken my left hand in his right, holding it tightly as I continue to caress his cheek with my other hand.

"Yeah, of course. There's your family, your best friends. Even some fans. Harry, you've been in the spotlight for over 6 years. You honestly think that not any fans that knew you from your first X-Factor audition are still here? They're constants. They loved you before you were big, while you're big, and they'll still love you after you fade out of the spotlight." I try to reassure him.

"What about you?" He asks, catching me by surprise. "There's not many people you associate yourself with. You met all your friends here, so they weren't constant before you got big. Do you have any family at home that is still there for you?"

I honestly thought he had gotten over the fact that I don't share much about my personal life. All he knows is that I have a brother, a nephew, and I'm from Ireland. I've kept everything else on the down low.

"I have Greg."

"That's it?"

"Uhm, yeah."

He eyes me up, still holding my hand tightly. "What about your mum and dad? And that Meghan girl?"

I sigh, dropping my hand off his cheek. "Look, when I was younger, some shit happened that made my parents hate me. I was something they didn't want so I left. I haven't been back since I was 16." Harry's eyes widen.

"What happened?"

"That's not important. What is, though, is you talking to those people over there about how your reaction last night was provoked and it was a mistake to slash out on camera."

He studies my face a few times, his eyes flickering from one eye to the other. Instead of letting him question, I pull on his hand and lead him over to the fence again. The fans have begun to freak out again once they see us coming closer, and the flashes of cameras become brighter and louder.

"Harry has something to explain." I start for him, motioning to him with my free hand. He looks at me with a sad facial expression, before pulling me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist. A few girls squeal a little bit, before most of the crowd tries to quiet themselves so they so they can get this on video.

"Is everyone recording?" He asks. Some of them say yes while some of them nod. He then launches into a watered down story of what had happened.

I know I rudely cut him off, but I don't do the personal talks. He doesn't need to know about my family. They're irrelevant at this point.

_-_-_

"So, what's our dance?" Harry asked after we've returned back to his home. I went in while he was almost finished explaining to get our dance and a few security guards to get us out to our car.

I've actually refrained from telling him our dance because I knew he would probably get excited and start recommending songs and good moves to do.

"Uhm, it's actually contemporary." I say, already thinking over a simple version of steps that I know Harry will be able to do.

"What's that? Has anyone this season done that dance before?" He asks, sitting down on his couch.

"I think so. It's kind of, uhm, slow and romantic. It's also kind of hard to learn because there are lifts and quick moves."

"Oh, okay. What kinds of songs are usually used?" I look him up and down, confused by his question. "So I can start looking for a song while you come up with the dance."

"Oh, right. Well, it's Couples Week so, like, slow love songs. Like, uhm..." I try to think of my small history of love songs I know. The most I've ever heard are because they've come on the radio and was too lazy to change it. "Let Her Go by Passenger. Or that song by Ed Sheeran, what's it called?"

"Photograph? Thinking Out Loud?" He recommends.

"Both." I shrug, moving around the room a bit in a way as if I was dancing.

"I think I have just the one." He says and plucks my phone from my pocket.

"Hey!" I reach to take it back, but he's already unlocked it and is scrolling through my own iTunes music. "What song would you ever find on there that is, in any way, related to a slow love song?"

He just smirks and locks my phone after finding his choice. As soon as I hear the first words, I complain.

"You're only doing this because that's the only slow song I listen to." I whine, grabbing my phone and turning it off.

"It fits your description." He shrugs with a smug grin.

I look down at my phone and restart the song, contemplating it. He's right that it does fit the definition and it is a good song. I wouldn't want some soppy song that I'll be gagging to throughout the entire performance.

"Fine. Okay, we'll do this song." He smiles, standing up and hugging me. I return the gesture, resting my head on his shoulder.

_-_-_

I wasn't able to completely finish coming up with a dance while at Harry's because he was constantly annoying me, but during the little bit of peace I had gotten, I managed to get most of the choreography finished. I convinced him that I should go back to my own apartment. I haven't spent much time in it during this season. It was actually strange leaving Harry's at the end of day instead of staying over in his guest room. It's temporarily been called "Nicolette's Room" ever since the beginning of the season.

Harry drops me off outside the door of the lobby with a kiss on the cheek. I try to hide my blush by rolling my eyes.

I get my mail and take a long walk to my apartment on the third floor. The elevator seemed to have a big group of people waiting so I decided to take the stairs instead. While I mindlessly walk up the stairs one at a time, instead of my usual step-skipping that I normally do, I think about Harry's two break downs today. I've never seen him so emotional.

I'm not very good at calming people down, so I'm surprised he wasn't crying all day with my horrible therapeutic ways of dealing with it.

When I reach the door leading out to the hallway of my apartment, I push it open with my shoulders. My mind is still clouded with thoughts of Harry, so I'm not too surprised when I go ramming into something, or, better yet, someone.

"Sorry," I mumble, not even looking up at them. The bag on my shoulder slips down a little when I brush past them. My eye sight reaches the bottom part of the door to my apartment. I don't even have to look up and check if it's mine because I can tell by the patterns on the rug and a potted plant next to the wall.

"Ni?" Someone calls out. I turn back around, meeting eye contact with the person who, for some reason, knows my nickname.

I eye her up, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Calm down, Niall." She tries to smile, but I'm not having any of it.

"Don't call me that. How did you get my address?" I demand.

"It's not like it ma--"

"It does matter. I could file a report for stalking."

She rolls her eyes, "You've always been one for the dramatics. And you can't report me for showing up at your house unexpected."

"Yeah, I can actually. You got my address without my consent for anyone to allow you to have it." I snap, unlocking my door. I step inside, ready to slam the door behind me.

She's to quick, however, when she slips in through the small space left before it slams. Damn her for being the size of a twig.

"C'mon, Niall, I just want to talk."

"No, get out." I reply coldly, opening the door and shoving her outside. She steps up again and presses against the door with her shoulders, keeping me from closing it all the way.

"Ni."

"Go away."

After we push at each other from both sides, she somehow gets the upper hand and forces the door open against my weight. I use all my strength to push back against her, but let's face it, she's always been stronger than me.

After a minute of her pushing her way into my door, I finally just give up and let the door slam against the barrier, actively making her lose her balance and go tumbling to the floor.

"That's what you get." I smirk, going over to my kitchen and pulling out a Stouffer's turkey microwave dinner.

"Very funny." I hear her mutter and closing my front door.

"I happen to think it's quite hilarious, actually." I pop the tray into the microwave after reading over the instructions for a minute.

"Is that what you live off of?" She motions to my dinner choice.

I roll my eyes, "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Bull-fucking-shit. Now I'm gonna ask you again, and you're not gonna be a smartass. Answer me honestly. Why. Are. You. Here."

She looks around my apartment, prolonging her answer. I roll my eyes and take the dinner out of the microwave, stirring it, and putting it back in.

"If Greg can see you with his son that, might I add, you didn't even know existed, why can't I?" She asks.

"Because I hate you."

"Don't be bitter."

"Then don't be a smartass and tell me why you're here." I snap, getting out m phone to check a notification I've gotten. It's from Harry, asking if I've gotten in my apartment safe. I type out a reply as Meghan continues to stay silent on the other side of the kitchen.

To Harry:

I got in just fine, stop worrying. And you better not be texting and driving.

Harry replies a few seconds later and I really hope he's home by now or else I'd be really worried that he's texting this fast while driving.

From Harry:

Nah, I got home a few minutes ago. Now I'm really wishing I went out to get something to eat because I'm starved.

To Harry:

Then make yourself something. That's what I'm doing.

From Harry:

What are you making? Mind if I join you? I'm too lazy to just make myself something. The only time I cook is when I have someone over.

To Harry:

Unless you like half a microwave meal of Stouffer's turkey dinner with mashed potatoes, I fear you're out of luck.

From Harry:

Oh. I thought you actually cracked and made something of dietary value.

To Harry:

Never.

"Niall?" I look up at the sound of that wretched name. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course not; I don't want you here, so why would I give you the satisfaction of having me listen to you?" I snap.

She sighs and looks down. "Please just hear me out, Ni."

I look down at my phone to see that the message hasn't been sent yet, so I lock my phone and motion Meghan towards my couch.

"Thanks." She smiles, sitting down carefully.

"Don't thank me yet. I could change my mind, so don't fuck it up. I still have to call Greg and yell at him for giving my address away to you." I walk over my dinner in one hand and my phone in the other.

She rolls her eyes, "He didn't, don't worry. I figured it out on my own."

"How?"

"Don't think just because it's called 'Dancing With The Stars' that they only follow the supposed Stars around all day. You've been papped a few times, and it's usually in front of this complex or in front of the studio."

"How did you know I was on the third floor?"

"It took a lot of groveling and promising things I probably shouldn't have to the night shift worker."

"Meghan, what did you promise him?"

She rolls her eyes, "Things that my super-religious parents would shun me for."

"Gross." I laugh at her pain.

"And he didn't even give me your address! He just gave me the floor you were on! It's all bullshit."

"Huh, I never thought I'd see the day that prissy little Meghan Delaney would cuss."

"And I never thought I'd see the day that boyish, weirdo Niall Horan would become a girl and one of the best dancers on some American show."

"See, I thought I kind made that moment good and you just ruined it."

She sighs again, "Sorry."

"Why are you here?"

"Well," She trails off, looking around the room again.

"Don't start with that again. I will throw you out of here." I threaten.

"Okay, you're gonna hate me for this." She pauses and I raise my eyebrows. "I've been talking to your parents--"

"Of course you have." I scoff.

"--and they want you to come home." She finishes quickly.

"No. You may go now."

She presses herself farther back into my couch. "Niall--"

"If you call me that one more time I will throw you out my window."

"Fine, fine. Ni, please just consider this. You've been away for seven years, and you're trying to tell me you don't miss your parents?"

"Nope." I lie. To be honest, I do sometimes think of going back to them, but that would ruin everything. I've been trying to convince them that I am a girl for almost ten years, and there is no way I will go back and let them treat me like a boy.

"Yes you do. You've always been shit at lying."

"The only person I want to see from that place is Greg, and I did. My needs are fulfilled."

"That's not true."

"Don't you dare tell me what's true and not true about my life. It's my life, not yours. You don't know me."

"Yes, I do actually."

"No, you--"

"You are obsessed with hair but you never try to do anything with yours because it takes too much time." She quickly says.

"What?" I freeze.

"A-and you love wearing dresses, although you can't afford them. And if you're not wearing a dress, you're wearing a long sweatshirt that reaches your knees and no pants."

"How do you know--"

"You love golfing for some strange reason, and you hate baseball. You love football, but it's hard for you to play because of your knee."

"Okay, I--"

"You love your fast metabolism because it meant you could eat all the food you wanted without having to exercise."

"Meghan."

"And you absolutely love dancing. Whether you're in the rain or in the bathroom or in the middle of a classroom. You love the feeling of the wind lifting your shirt when you spin or the way your hair is all a mess after you're done."

We're both silent for a few moments. She is looking at me with a hopeful look while I try to figure out how she knows all that. I'm also waiting for her to tell me more things I never realized about myself but she seemed to.

"Are you going to say anything?" She whispers.

"How the hell do you know all that?" I ask in a low voice, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"Because they haven't changed about you in the last seven years."

"What..." I try to comprehend it.

"Even when you were 14, you hated doing anything with your hair and usually ended up leaving it down because it took long and you didn't like wasting time on 'useless' things, as you would call it." I think about it and realize she's telling the truth.

"I didn't realize I still did that."

"Yeah, and the same with the dresses. You never had money to buy dresses back in Ireland so you walked around in nothing but a sweatshirt most of the time. But when you were able to wear one, you always jumped at the opportunity."

"Wow."

"And golfing. Remember when we stole my dad's golfing bag and illegally started playing in that country club in the middle of the night? We never did find that lost golf club..."

I think back on it and start laughing. We snuck out when we were both 15 and walked down towards some popular country club in this wealthy neighbourhood. We stole someone's golf cart right out from there open garage and rode around on it while doing a few holes only a few meters from the actual hole. At one point, I made a hole-in-one and jumped up in excitement, accidentally chucking Meghan's dad's golf club into the woods. After that, we spend half an hour feeling around in it before we decided to come back when it was light out. The next day, we returned and we never found the club.

"And baseball. When you were little your dad bought you a glove and a bat, but you never took interest in it. Your brother ended up stealing it and using it himself. Also with football. You could shoot a goal pretty well but you couldn't actually play too well because your knee has always been bad. Maybe that's why you like golfing so much..."

I think back to when I was 12 and the coach refused to move me up to Youth 13 leagues because I couldn't run with my knee always acting up. They tried me as a goal keeper, but that also didn't help when I had to quickly twist my body in a different direction to get a ball. I eventually dropped the sport after my parents told me I could find something else to do; of course, after my brother spend days listening to me cuss at the wall and kick my bed post.

"And your eating habits. I've often seen papped pictures of you coming out of local restaurants or in the drive thru to fast food places."

I blush as I think back to my horrible eating habits off season. It never really mattered thought, I would always dance off the weight I've gained, if any.

"And of course, with dancing. I'm surprised I didn't see it coming when you appeared on this dancing show in America. You've always loved expressing yourself through dancing. Even when you were a little kid and were shit at it--"

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying. And now, seeing you on that show, it's like I'm looking at the exact same you when we used to dance in the rain when we were little."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I finally wonder, not seeing how this goes with her wanting me to go home to Ireland."

"Because, well..." She trails off. "Remember when I came here a few weeks ago with the idea to make you realize who you really were?"

My eyes harden, "Oh, so that's what this is about. You want to pummel the old me into this me. Well, it's not gonna happen."

"What? No? No no no, that's not why I'm here." She rushes.

"It sure does sound like it."

"No, I'm here because I want to show you that we can learn to accept you."

"What?" I ask, not seeing how any of this adds up.

"After I learned where you were, I immediately got the first plane to come out here and try and convince you to come back. Now, after looking up videos and pictures of you, I realized that you're the exact same person you were before. You haven't changed much, not really. You're the same Niall Horan that I know, except you're older, stronger and, well, identifying as a girl instead of a guy."

I stay silent for a second. "So...?"

"Ugh, that's something that hasn't changed about you either. You barely ever understand something unless they say it exactly as it is." She rolls her eyes. "I'm saying that I accept you, Ni, and I support you."

I stand up, my eyes widening. "W-what?"

"You heard me. You're Nicolette Janelle Horan, an amazing dancer and, hopefully, my best friend again."

She smiles at me, her eyes looking between both of my own. The room is quiet except for the sound of my refrigerator that's making some strange noise and our breathing.

"Holy shit." I finally say. "Wait-- if you accept me, why did you keep calling me Niall earlier?"

"It's just gonna take some getting used to. Sorry about that." She apologizes sincerely.

"Right. Okay." I play with my thumbs awkwardly. "So, what about my parents?"

"Huh?"

"You started by saying that you were talking to my parents and they wanted me home. How does your acceptance have to do with them?"

"Well," She takes a deep breath, planning for a long story. "Your brother first found out about you being on Dancing With The Stars when you went on it for the first time. He was so surprised to see you, but he didn't tell your parents because he knew they would freak out. We all found out a few months ago when he accidentally mentioned it during a get together church dinner that my parents were hosting.

"I immediately showed reasons for me to go to America and find you. Your parents' only request was to ask you to come home. When I found you the first time, I didn't accept you, so I was on their side. But after I found out that you're still their little baby and you haven't changed barely at all, I knew that if I was able to accept you in such a short amount of time, then they should too."

She pauses, taking a few breaths before continuing with. "I was hoping you'd go home with me when I leave. I've been here since the beginning of the season."

"When are you leaving?" I ask.

"Sunday."

"Meghan, I can't." I say.

"What? Why not?"

"Well, I still have to dance the rest of the season. I can't just leave. That would be unfair to the team and Harry."

"Right, right." She says, before sighing. "Sorry."

"What?"

"Nothing." She then shakes her head, looking back up and smiling.

"Okay..." I shake off the weird feeling. "So, do you want to stay over? I don't have a guest room but I have my room, and you know how my parents always taught me to offer the best choice when you have company."

"Sure, but c'mon, Ni. We've known each other for years, it's not like sleeping in the same bed will kill us. We always did it when we were younger."

"Right. Come on, then. Help yourself to any water or something you need for the night because I'm pretty drained myself. I'll probably fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow." I go over to the trash can and drop my empty microwave plate in it and put the fork into the sink to wash tomorrow.

When we get in my room, it's like a mental agreement that she will sleep on the right side as I sleep on the left. I plug in my phone, checking if Harry texted me back at all in the time we were talking.

From Harry:

Of course not. I'm off to bed now, see you bright and early tomorrow. Sleep well darling.

He sent that over 20 minutes ago so I'm presuming he's already asleep. I don't reply, instead rolling my eyes at the nickname.

Secretly, my heart flutters at his new nickname, as it seems everyone is calling me by my old one now.


	16. You Look Good on The Dance Floor

"You might be mad at me, but I'm nervous." Harry says, watching a recap of Amy and Liam's week practicing.

"Really?" He nods. "I thought you'd gotten over that."

He sighs, playing with the sleeves of his costume. It's pretty simple tonight, considering it's Couples Week and we have the most romantic dance ever.

After Meghan had left a few nights ago, I put everything into our dance. I perfected and re-perfected anything and everything this week to keep my mind off of her unexpected and unwanted visit.

Thankfully Harry hasn't caught onto my strange behaviour. I played it off mostly by saying I was on my period, which is one thing I am so glad I didn't have to go through. I feel for those women who were born women, I really do.

"I can't help it. Do you think we should have practised more? I think we should have rehearsed that spin just before the--"

"Harry?" I start. He glances up at me before sighing again.

"I know, I know. Getting worked up right before a performance only makes you do worse instead of better."

"I mean, that's not exactly what I had in mind, but if it makes you shut up," I joke, pushing him.

"Haha. You remind me of my sister." He rolls his eyes.

"Really now? And what have I done to deserve such an infamous title?"

"Your need to always use curse words all the time."

"Hmm. Just give me bigger tits and we could be the same person."

"I'm not sure she would agree," Harry says.

"How so?"

"She absolutely despises metal music."

I scoff, "I've officially disowned your sister."

"How rude of you to do such a thing since you've never actually met her. I mean, you've dealt with me and I have similar music tastes."

"Yeah, but I'm stuck with you for nearly three months. I'd be wasting my breath if I were to complain about you." He smirks. "And trust me, there have been some things that make me bite my tongue and smash my head against a wall."

"And what are some of those things?" He asks, looking back up at the screen in front of us. We still have three more dances, a performance, and a few commercial breaks here and there before we get out on the dance floor ourselves. We are the last to dance tonight.

"Uhm, let's start with your strange need to wear those shirts."

"What's wrong with my style?"

"Nothing, except for the fact that you look like one of those dad's that wear those vacation shirts. I'm being serious here, you look like a father whose taken their family on a trip to Barbados."

He scoffs, "Is that all?"

"Of course not. Let's also talk about your rubbish sense of humour."

"What? I happen to be hilarious."

"Mhm, sure. What about you always waking up early? Or going on juice cleanses when you don't need to? Or only going to the gym six times a week because seven is too excessive and five is too lazy? Don't even get me started on your references to the weirdest shit that no one has even attempted to understand."

"Okay, fine. There's a bunch of shit about me that you don't like, but what about the things you do like? There has to be something about me that doesn't bother you."

"Nope, you annoy me to death." I say, sitting down on a chair against the wall.

"C'mon, there's not a single thing about me that sparks your interest?" He pushes, sitting down on the floor in front of me.

"Well..."

"Yeah?" He perks up excitedly.

"There are some things that keep me from completely hating your guts."

"How flattering." He jokes.

"Seriously. I mean, a lot of people like this about you. You've probably heard this before and you probably don't want to hear someone else saying it."

"Please shut up and tell me." He requests. I sigh, looking up at the screen. It's now showing a blank screen, the only thing telling us it's on is the timer at the top of the screen, counting down to when the commercial break ends.

"Alright. Alright, I'll tell you." He waits until I continue, keeping silent except for his light breathing. "I like how you stand up for what you believe in."

I pause, letting him process what I said. His face seems to be confused, and I know what I say is true when he mumbles out, "What?"

"How you support what you believe in. The way you so nonchalantly helped millions realise why Sea World is a bad place. How you step up and help fans and people who are struggling with personal problems. The way you support the LGBTQ+ community in all it's causes, and spreading the word that it's okay for you to love who you want and be who you are."

"Really?"

"Really." I confirm.

He thinks for a second before smirking. "Maybe 'really' could be our always."

I roll my eyes and punch him in the arm, hard.

"Ow, what was that for?" He rubs his arm, trying to ease the pain that my fist caused.

"For ruining this moment and making it all cliche. That book is overrated anyway."

He shakes his head. "What else is overrated to you?"

"A lot of things."

"Such as?"

"The show Phineas and Ferb."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It was so predictable. The platypus always defeated that bad guy. The sister never ratted out Phineas and Ferb to their mom. That was the end of nearly every episode."

"True. Anything else?"

"Taylor Swift."

"What? But she's a great artist--"

"She might be America's little sweetheart, but she's not to me. Her songs are half-assed compared to other singer's songs that have much more meaning. She is self centred and constantly called out for it, only she's tries to play it off as the victim."

"Wow. I didn't know you felt that way. What else?"

Those little yellow things off of Despicable Me, what are they called again? Minions, was it?"

"I can agree with that, I guess."

"Oh, and Pewdiepie."

"What's that?"

"He's a gamer. I don't know why he's so popular but he is. Sure, he's funny and he has a cute accent, but other than that, there's nothing different about him from other youtubers. Markiplier is funny, so is ihascupquake and Cryaotic. And other youtubers such as Dan and Phil, Troye Sivan, Connor Franta. They're all equally as good, but why does the Pewds have so many more subscribers and fans than the rest of them? I don't get it."

"I'm just gonna nod and pretend I know what you're talking about." Harry says, actually nodding along and smiling.

"You're horrible to complain to." I whine, sitting down. Harry and I are going to practice a little while before we go on stage, but we can just chill for right now.

He smiles.

"You know, you make it very easy to hate you." I admit, playing with the loose material on my dress that's meant to fly up when I spin.

He smiles wider. I roll my eyes right as my phone vibrates in my hands. It's from Meghan, telling me that her flight has just landed. It was delayed by nearly a full day when they landed in New York because of bad weather in Ireland and over the ocean.

"Who's that?" He asks, his face drooping and his eyes mirroring a sad expression.

"My friend," Is my automatic reply. I've been telling him that all week, or at least since Meghan gave me her number a few days ago so we could catch up without having to be near each other.

She hasn't changed much, kind of like how she said I hadn't either. It was weird talking to someone that I've spent so many years despising because of how uneducated she was about who I was.

I know I can't exactly tell Harry who she is, because he's going to wonder why we weren't friends for seven years, and he is going to stop accepting the "nothing important" excuse soon.

He sighs, disappointed. "Am I ever going to learn who this friend is?" I shrug. "You can trust me, love." My heart warms in the same way it did when he sent it to me the first time over text.

Throughout the week, Harry has been testing out different pet names for me. Call me naïve, but I've only shrugged it off as a nonchalant way to get me used to being called them, since his nickname that he once thought was original has been taken over. So far, his favourites have been darling, baby, and love. My favourites have been darling, love, dove, and baby. Sometimes he'll do combinations that make my heart spasm, such as darling dove, lovely love, and baby girl.

It's weird to have this kind of treatment. I've always been used to being called my name, or a shortening of my name. Pet names are a strange thing to me. I never knew I'd like being called them so much.

"It's Meghan."

"Who?"

"She was my friend back in Ireland... she came to visit and we caught up." I explain briefly, hoping he doesn't catch on.

He doesn't have to, though, when Louis comes out of literally nowhere and says, "Isn't Meghan the bitch that came to the studio at the beginning of the season?"

"Louis!" I yell.

"What? She was annoying and I didn't like the way she would talk to you." He smiles innocently.

"Go get a social life and stop intruding on mine." I shoo him away. He rolls his eyes but listen to me anyway, an annoying smirk on his face.

He walks off, not looking back to me as I turn back to Harry.

"So, you and this Meghan had a falling out back at home and she tried to reconnect with you again?" He guesses.

"We didn't exact fall out. It was just a disagreement that was never resolved before I left."

"What was the disagreement?" He asks.

I was expecting him to question me, but I was really hoping it wouldn't seem important enough to ask about.

"Dove, c'mon. You've been giving me little hints that something serious happened back when you lived in Ireland, but you won't tell me what it is." I go to cut him off, but he starts talking again. "And don't give me that 'it's nothing important' excuse because it's quite obvious that it is important if you've refused to go back home for seven years, only just now seeing your brother. I wouldn't be able to deal with not seeing my family for over a few months, let alone seven years."

"I'm not you. I can go years without seeing those people because they didn't get me where I am now, I did. I'm the way I am because it's what I strived to be."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just want to know these things about you. The serious things; the reasons you're the way you are. People around you talk about it, but no one actually says what it is. Everyone seems to know... except for me." He sighs.

I didn't mean to snap out at him, I really didn't. I guess I just get defensive when people try to learn things about me because I'm afraid they'll leave me if they actually find out. Harry is currently one of my closest friends. It would be horrible if I lost him too. Things have been going too well for me; I got my brother back and a nephew who doesn't know about my old self, and my old best friend has finally accepted me. I might be getting my parents back too.

I've officially added Harry to that small group of people I don't want to lose. I lost everyone before and I'm just now getting them back. If I tell Harry, he might leave or not accept me the way Greg did. It would be better if he knew as much as Theo did.

"Harry," I start. He looks back at me after looking over to the screen near the stage. We just have one more dance and a commercial break left before we have to set out on the dance floor. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's just... whatever you're worrying about, it's not as important as you think it is. Everything that happened back home is in the past. Nothing you need to think about."

He sighs again. "If it's not important than why can't you just tell me?"

"Harry, please, babe." The nickname slips through without much thought. He seems to be caught off guard, and I take this time to catch Louis' eye across the way. He has a worried facial expression, but he winks at me anyway, followed by a thumbs up.

After he regains his composure, I know he's excited about the nickname. I haven't given him one yet, and I'm honestly wondering why. I mean, I could have easily started calling him Haz, but I wanted something different. There isn't much else I can do with his actual name, so I had to use something else. Sure, 'babe' isn't exactly original, but I wasn't thinking about that when I said it.

"Harry, Nic." One of the stage directors calls us. We both look up, Harry having to shake his head a few times before focusing all his attention on the man. "You're on after this commercial break.

"Great, thanks for reminding us." I say. He nods, heading off somewhere. "So much for practicing anymore." I joke turning back to Harry.

He seems to be in a trance as he lifts his right hand and presses his thumb to my bottom lip, cupping my chin with the rest of his fingers. "I think we'll be okay."

"I'm not sure, we were pretty shit." I joke.

"I'm not worried." He pushes my lip down so my teeth and a little bit of my gums are visible. It's weird, but he's snapped away when Louis comes over. 

"So, how do you think you'll do?" Louis winks at me.

"I think we'll do just fine." Harry says, tearing his gaze away from me. He then stands up. "It's a bit hot, I think I'll go get some water." He scurries off over to a table where bottled waters are stacked.

"Was I seeing things or was Harry just playing with your lips?" Louis asks. I shrug weakly, looking over at the screen. The countdown to when we go back on air is on, reading a little less than a minute. "Nic."

"What?" I look back to him. He has a devious glint in his eyes, but he's trying to keep a neutral expression.

"Answer me. Was Harry just touching or not touching your lips with his fingers?"

"So what if he was?" I answer lamely.

"You're disgustingly cute and you didn't even kiss." He jokes, making a gagging noise.

"Ni?" Harry then comes over. "We have to go on as soon as the break is over." His voice is soft, and I'm really hoping Louis didn't scare him off with his antics.

"Yeah, right. See you after we dance, Louis." I stand up and walk over to Harry. He wraps an arm around my waist almost as if it's routine for us.

We walk away, me looking back at Louis who smirks before faux throwing up. I roll my eyes and turn back around, hearing his laugh burst out.

"What were you talking about?" Harry asks.

"Louis was just being a twat, as usual."

He shrugs it off, leading me onto the stage. We get in our rightful positions, waiting for the practice video to end and for us to be introduced.

"Dancing Contemporary, Harry Styles, and his partner Nicolette Horan."

The entire room is silent as the first note is played, and Harry makes his way over to me. I'm leaning down, keeping my body loose so he can lift me easily.

"A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather. I was praying that you and me might end of together. It's like I'm wishing for rain as I stand in the desert, but I'm holding you closer than most, 'cause you are my heaven."

The dance goes by slowly, not that either of us pay much attention. Harry has no eyes for anything else except for me, much like myself with him, as we dance slowly, but quickly, around the ballroom floor.

Harry isn't mouthing off the numbers, but the words. We're both saying the lyrics quietly, keeping our eyes on each other except for the times we have to look away.

Once we finish, the entire room is quiet for a second before bursting into cheers and applause. I look around the room, still being held within Harry's arms. He watches my every move, not releasing me from his arms. I don't really know if I want to move, but I know we have to because we have a time limit that we have left.

"C'mon, Harry. We have to get over to the--" He cuts me off by placing his finger on my lip again.

After a moment, the crowd quiets down. We haven't moved from our positions and I'm sure they're wondering if one of us is hurt.

"Harry." I try to pull away, only to be held on tighter. With his arms wrapped tightly around my back, I'm unable to move. My peripheral vision catches sight of Tom motioning us over and a few backstage employees contemplating of they should come out or not. "Harry, what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer, only keeping his eyes on my face. The green eyes peer all around the contours of my face, taking everything in. He finally settles on staring right below my direct eyesight. I glance down.

"Harry, what are you--"

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time." He whispers, leaning in only a few inches and connecting his lips onto my own.

My ears stop working any my eyes widen. Harry is kissing me. Harry is kissing me. 

I don't have the strength to push him away, or maybe I just don't want to. All I know is that Harry's lips are pressed softly against mine, unmoving.

The sensation feels weird. I've never been kissed on the lips, not by someone outside my family, and not for this long. Sure, I've shared little good-night pecks with my parents when I was a little kid, and sometimes Greg would peck the corner of my lips after I've cried, but never like this.

I can't exactly tell if I like it or not. My stomach feels like it's dropped, but my heart feels like it's in my throat. I can feel it beating fast, or maybe that's Harry's with how tightly he's pressed against my body.

Both of our lips are unmoving. His lips are just pursed against my motionless ones. I'm too afraid to kiss him back.

I get over my fear a few seconds later, and I finally decide to react. My eyes close and my arms unconsciously go to Harry's waist, holding him against me, letting my lips finally move against his.

He takes this reaction as a way of knowing I agreed to his unexpected action by pressing his li[s against mine harder.

No first kiss has ever been perfect, and that shows. Our lips move together awkwardly and out of sync. His lips are slightly chapped and mine are bruised by me biting them when I try to concentrate. Mine also feel too wet, and my breath is probably disgusting, but Harry doesn't seem to pay any attention to that. He just kisses me sweetly.

There is nothing dirty about the kiss. Just our lips pressed together.

When he finally pulls away, we both suck in deep breaths. He lets his out through his mouth as I breath out slowly through my nose. His smile is wide and his eyes are crinkled.

We head over to the judges table, my mind still clouded. I don't know what the judges said, I'm just hoping it was praise.

Harry leads me up to the Skybox where everyone is still excited and cheering for us. I somehow catch Louis whisper in my ear, "You two look good together. As I said, disgustingly cute." He chuckles, pushing me away so we can listen to Erin.

Again, I don't know what she said. I answered the questions I was asked and laughed at Harry's happiness, but everything else was a blur.

The score is given to us, but I didn't catch what it was until Harry whispers it in my ear, "Did you hear that, baby? We got a perfect 40."


	17. Team Lover Boy

Harry's self-confidence has been better ever since he kissed me on Monday. It was obviously something that would be highlighted by the media until the end of the season, but it doesn't seem to bother Harry one bit. Actually, he drags me out and answers questions about the supposed 'us' that is expected to exist because of the kiss.

Apparently, if you've seen in public after a rumour starts up about you, then it's routine to be followed around for at least a few days. The paparazzi have been on our asses since we left Monday night.

It's currently Thursday, nearly half-way through the practicing period. Sadly, we did have to say good-bye to Zoe and Mark, and also Mitch and Sharna. There's only six couples left in total.

It's always upsetting to see people go if they're in the last five. Although seven weeks doesn't seem like a very long time, it is when it comes to being associated with only this group of people for that time period. Some people you grow to hate, but others become your best friends.

In mine and Harry's case, it's neither of those.

Recently, I've been thinking about what would happen to him after the season ends. I mean, with me going back to Ireland for who knows how long, what would Harry do? Would he go back to the studio for an album or does he have a tour planned afterward? The only reason he hasn't been dragged into the studio over the time of the season is because he only just finished writing an album and he had a 3 and a half month break from touring.

I'm just worried what he will do after I've left. With the way he's been growing so close to me, it makes me wonder if he would let me leave or not.

Harry knows that I haven't been home in so long and he wasn't really expecting me to go back after Greg came to visit. He knew I wasn't very close to my family, but what about now? Things have changed.

"Dove," Harry calls me. I turn to him noticing that he's gotten up from the ground where he planted himself when Derek called for a water break. The only way I know it's him is because he's the only person that would even think of calling someone that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I reply automatically.

"C'mon now. Tell me, please?" He comes over to me and trails his fingers up and down my left forearm.

"Seriously, it's nothing. I was just thinking, that's all."

"About what?" Demi and Lorde are still out of the room going to the bathroom or something so we still have time to talk. I wonder if I should tell him that I'm going back to Ireland soon. He needs to know, but I don't know when would be the right time to tell him.

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking about what we should call the team." I lie. He just shrugs.

I don't know. Shouldn't it kind of do something with our dance or theme?"

"Actually, it doesn't." Louis butts in. He seems to have been doing that more often. I don't know who he's trying to annoy with it; me, or Harry. "So we already chose one."

"What? Without our consent?" Harry scowls at Louis when he puts his hand around my waist.

"Of course not. This might be a team, but not all team members are needed to decide on a fucking name." Louis leads me over to a little circle in the middle of the room, which actively brings Harry over as well. Harry pulls me away from Louis' side, instead presses me into his own.

The girls have since returned to the room, also joining the circle. Derek starts talking, "Alright, Nic. You chose the song, right?"

"Yeah." I nod.

"What is it?"

"Okay, well, you guys are going to give me shit for this. Because the theme is 'Flashback', I was thinking to not only include some songs from in the past, but also something that corresponds with the theme meaning."

"Oh no. She probably chose some weird hipster shit." Louis mutters.

"Shut up. The song is 'Don't Look Back' by Boston. It is an older song, but it also has to do with the theme."

"How?" Demi asks.

"The song is about not turning back to older things because it may change some things in the future. Sure, it may be fun to reminisce on good memories, but there are also some bad memories that can bring your mood down. It's sometimes good to not 'look back' because the future is what you're supposed to be focused on."

Everyone is silent, just staring at me. The only reason I recommended it, is because I can speak from experience on not wanting to reminisce on old memories. I just want to reach out to the people that have had bad pasts and tell them that it's okay to hate the memories.

"Nicolette," Louis starts. "you deep son of a bitch, look. I shed a single tear." He drags his pointer finger down from his eye socket to the bottom of his face, miming an over-exaggerated sad face.

I shove him off balance, "Fuck off. I thought it was a good idea."

"I think it's a good idea." Harry pipes in, standing up for me.

"Of course you think it's a good idea, Lover Boy." Louis jabs.

"Lover Boy?" Both Harry and I question.

"Yeah, Team Lover Boy. That's what we named our team."

"Louis, quit it. I happen to think it's a good idea as well." Demi says.

"What? The song or the name of the group?"

"The song. It's a good song, in case you didn't know, and I think it will go well with our dance." Demi smiles at me. I smile back and then turn to Louis with a smirk.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Stop being bitter that I came up with something better than you." I say. He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he really isn't annoyed.

"Alright, we have a song. Let's practice the dances one more time before we head off to practice our personal dances." Derek suggests. We all nod a little, getting in our starting positions. Harry is reluctant to leave my side as we finish the beginning sequence to split off in our personal dances. We are the last to dance together before the entire group comes back together again and finishes off.

The freestyle is an easy one to pair with songs, and since we came up with the dance before the song, it was helpful when I was looking around for songs to pair with it.

After we practice a few more times as a group, it's a silent agreement when we break off into our personalized practice rooms. Harry wraps his arm around me after we enter the hallway, "Do you want to go back to mine to practice, baby?"

"When do we not?" I ask rhetorically. He smiles lightly and leads me outside the building, catching the attention of a few paparazzi that have yet to get a statement from Harry regarding the kissing ordeal. It only takes a minute for him to answer to them before he leads us to his car.

I can already tell that people are going start saying Harry and I are some kind of publicity stunt with how open Harry has been to questions and demands of the press. But there's nothing new there. Everything famous people do is considered a publicity stunt now-a-days. You can't ever be in a relationship without being called a liar somehow.

It's never actually happened to me before because, not only am I not considered a big celebrity, I've also never been seen with anyone outside the studio aside from my assigned Stars and some of the other dancers, and that's only generally during the recording seasons. Other than that, I spend most of my time in my apartment, catching up on any missed Doctor Who and The Walking Dead episodes I might have missed during the season.

It might seem repetitive and boring considering I am part of the celebrity community, but I don't consider myself being someone like that. It's never interested me for people to know everything about me and I'm not going to change that.

On Sunday night, Meghan sends me a Skype message, saying that Greg hasn't gone back to our parent's house since he's returned to Ireland. I'm guessing they found out that he came to see me and will try to get my address out of him.

I reply with a simple 'okay.' before video calling her. She answers on the third ring, looking a bit stressed.

"Hey, Ni." She waves at the camera. I set my computer on my lap and let the heat from it being used for so long warm up my basketball shorts that I'm wearing for bed. "You finally left Harry's house?"

"Yeah, I told him there's no point in me paying the bills for my apartment if I'm never even there. He was reluctant, but he drove me home."

"Ever since you've met him, he's been your personal driver. And body-guard. And boyfriend."

I scold her, "He's not my boyfriend. You know this."

"He should be." She smirks. "Have you guys kissed again?"

"How did you know about that? Did you watch the show?" Dancing has never interested her so I don't understand why she would watch it just because of me.

"Nope. I didn't have to. By the next hour it was the number one trend on Twitter, and I just so happen to use Twitter quite a lot. Not only that, it's been the main topic of almost every celebrity magazine, newspaper, and website. How could I not have heard about it?"

"Shit. Do my parents know?"

"I don't think so. They've stopped asking about you ever since Greg refused giving them any news on when he visited you. They're pissed at him, but he's pissed at them so it's pretty equal."

I knock my head back onto the wall behind my bed. "Even when I'm not there, I still cause problems."

"Of course. It's not every day that someone's son tells them that they're a girl and then they disappear for seven years." I glare at her through the camera. She sighs, "Sorry."

"Can we not talk about that for once? Let's talk about you. How have you been for the last seven years? We didn't really have time to talk about it before you left."

"Nothing much has changed. I went to University but I never really found something that I want to do for the rest of my life. I'm stuck as a receptionist until then. But hey, whatever pays the bills."

"Amen." I finish. She laughs, looking over to the side of her when a male voice interrupts.

"I'll be right back." She says and leaves the camera view. I don't really think about it when my own phone lights up with a text from Harry. There's also a text that came through from Louis that I didn't notice until now. It was delivered about 10 minutes ago.

From: Louis

I didn't mean to be so harsh today. I was just a little mad about something. Don't let it get to you. :)

To: Louis

I could tell. So what do you use? Tampons or pads? And do I ever?

I add a purple devil emoticon to the end of my text, nonchalantly telling him that it was alright.

Meghan is still off screen, so I take this time to text Harry back as well.

From: Harry 

I miss you. .x

To: Harry

When do you not?

My phone vibrates again as soon as I reply to Harry with a text from Louis. I don't look up to see if Meghan is there because I would be able to hear her.

From: Louis

Pads all the way. Just imagine putting a tampon up... yeah.

Louis and Harry continue to text me one after the other so I just keep replying until Meghan comes back on the screen.

"Hey, sorry, Ni, but I've got to go. My boyfriend planned an unexpected date for tonight.

"At one in the morning?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Apparently so. He's a strange one. I'll talk to you later. Remember to tell me when you might be coming home."

"Alright. And the next time we talk, I will force you to tell me everything about your boyfriend. Bye!" Before she can argue, I disconnect the call with a smirk. I check around on my social media's before closing up my laptop and crawling into bed. It's only about 10, but I'm a bit tired. I turn the brightness down on my phone all the way before slipping off my shorts so I'm only in a pair for briefs and a tank-top. When I turn the lights off and fling the covers over myself, my phone lights up with another notification.

From: Harry

Are you going to sleep already, love?

To: Harry

Yeah, I'm tired. Plus, I want to get up early tomorrow so we can practice a few more times before we go into the studio and practice with the team.

From: Harry

Wouldn't it be easier if you were to wake up here so you don't have to waste practice time getting over here?

To: Harry

Harry...

From: Harry

C'mon, darling, please? I want you here. .x

To: Harry

On one condition.

From: Harry

I'm on my way.

To: Harry

I haven't even told you what it is!

From: Harry

It doesn't matter. I'll do anything for you. .xx

To: Harry

Then I hope you have a machete ready.

From: Harry

Why...?

To: Harry

Oh, no reason.

Harry arrives to pick me up in less than 10 minutes, giving me a small amount of time to pack up some essentials like a tooth-brush and deodorant and put my shorts back on, along with some tennis shoes. He comes knocking at my door, four sharp pats that were obviously not done with a fist, as it is very quiet and doesn't travel all around the house. If I hadn't have been waiting, I wouldn't have heard it.

"Hello, dove." He pulls me in automatically and kisses my forehead. When I'm allowed to step away, I wipe away the wet mark that would give me shivers otherwise.

"Sup." I grab my jacket and my small bag and walk past him out my door.

"Do you have your key?" I press down on the pocket of my jacket, showing the outline to my apartment key. He nods, leading me into the elevator with a hand on my lower back. He keeps it there until we have to depart for the short period that it takes him to get in the driver's seat (because of course he opened the passenger's door for me and of course he held my hand as I stepped inside.)

It doesn't take long to get to his house and I'm pretty sure I could drive there in my sleep with how many times I've seen these same roads go by.

One thing I love the most about riding in the passenger's seat is that I can watch how fast things go by when we're close, but things far away pass by slower. When I was a kid, I used to love riding with my face pressed against the glass as my eyes dart between the road which moves faster than the eye can see, the houses or buildings which go by much slower than the road, and the sun, moon and stars which never seem to move from their original position and are instead following me.

It was always something strange that confused me all throughout my childhood and most of my teenage years. Of course, I was taught that the sky is actually moving with you because the Earth is turning, but what about the ground compared to the houses? The ground will go by so fast, maybe too fast for my eyes to even realize how far we've gone, when, really, we're not going fast at all. The ground just seems to be moving faster because it's closer, I guess.

I'm currently in a similar position as I was when I was a kid; my cheek pressed against the glass, my mind wondering why some things seem to go by so fast when other's barely move at all, as my entire body relaxes and only focuses on the lines separating lanes. I count how many we've passed, and maybe next time I can count how many buildings we pass.

We arrive at Harry's pretty quickly, just as we usually do. Yet, my body doesn't feel like moving yet. I'd rather sit out on this car and stare at the moon. Most of the stars haven been dulled away because of all the lights on in the city, but the moon still seems bright and overpowering. Thankfully, there are no clouds present in the sky right now.

"Ni?" Harry calls me. I grunt in response, not moving. I feel his hand caress my left thigh a few times before he unclicks his seatbelt and gets out of the car. He rounds around onto my side of the car and knocks on the window twice before pulling it open. My head lolls back on instinct and presses into the headrest softly. "Do you plan on sleeping in here, darling?"

"Mmm," I sigh with a closed mouth. My fingers press down on my seatbelt to unbuckle it, but I don't pull it back. The strap comes off my torso by itself, but gets caught on my right arm. He chuckles when I groan again, swiping my hand away to get it off me. While my hand is still moving, I decide to press down on one of the seat adjustment buttons so my seat sets back. "Might as well. Too comfortable."

"Come on," He shakes his head with another chuckle, pushing the door back farther with his bum and lifting me up. I let gravity weigh my head down so I'm staring at the driveway upside down.

Harry somehow maneuvers us in a position where I'm not in fear of smacking my head on the ground and he's not struggling to keep my upright. My eyes close as I cuddle into his shoulder, gripping his shirt collar in my fist so I have something to hold onto.

He brings us up to his own room and drops me onto 'my side' - the left side - before walking away. I sit up on my elbows to watch him. He opens one of his draws and pulls out an oversized white shirt and some basketball shorts. "Here," He throws the clothes on the bed. I crawl down to the end where they landed and pick up the shorts, which have slipped onto the floor. I hold them up against my chest.

"These are huge." I comment, slipping my own, tighter shorts off and pulling his on. He nods before turning around so he can get his own pajamas put of the drawer. I take this time that he's not looking to slip my shirt off and push my arms and head into the black shirt in less than one move. I then reach behind me and unclip the bra that I have been wearing (because who the hell wearing bras to sleep?) and get it off under the shirt.

Harry grabs a shirt of his own, but doesn't pull it on. Instead, he turns around toward me. "Do you-- did you just take that off underneath your clothes?"

"Yeah. Problem?" I smile deviously, dropping my clothes onto the floor without folding them. Harry crinkles his nose at the gesture.

"No, but, well... why?"

"Because I felt like it. Now hurry up and get changed or I'm cuddling into your bed with your pillow without you in it."

"Right." He turns back around and looks at the shirt before turning to me again. "Wait, I turned around to ask you something. Do you mind if I sleep in just my briefs? I've never really been someone who likes to sleep with, well, clothes."

"It's your house." I point out.

"I know, but you're a guest."

I scoff, "By this point, Harry, I'm no guest. I'm just that little dick-fart who comes in and eats all your food and sleeps in your bed without asking."

"I love having you here, you know that." He smiles a little bit.

"Then quit being a self-conscious little shit and strip. If you love having me here, you should be comfortable with showing off by now."

"You know, I don't think there has been anyone who has even dared to talk the way you do on a daily basis."

"Because I don't give a fuck. You could get me a dictionary, and the only thing I would use it for is to find out if 'fuck-head' is classified as an actual word and what's the true definition."

"I'll give you one hint: it's not."

"Such bullshit. What's the point of a dictionary if it doesn't have anything useful in it?"

Harry shakes his head, pulling his shirt and shorts off a moment later. He makes his way over to the right side of the bed and crawls under the covers. I join him, making eye contact before stealing one of his pillows and turning on my other side. My back is now facing him, but that doesn't seem to mean anything when he scoots closer and spoons me. I laugh when his right arm comes up and covers my eyes, pulling my head back so it's resting against his chest. I scoot back and press my body fully against him, allowing him to completely surround me with his body heat.

"G'night, my baby girl." He kisses the back of my head once, and then one more time a little closer to my neck.

I sigh out, scooping my left arm up under his right arm and holding his wrist. "G'night." I whisper softly, closing my eyes and letting his uneven breaths lull me.

_-_-_

"Dove?"

"Yes?"

"How come you chose to be a dancer?" I'm pretty sure the question is just a distraction from how nervous he is. We're the first to perform our couple dance tonight, so we don't have much time to practice that one. Thankfully, Harry mastered the steps to the Quickstep quite easily, especially considering how clumsy he is. We'll have a lot of time after we perform to practice our personal dance that we do during the group performance. Our group will go last for the night.

The show was just introduced a few seconds ago and they're explaining a short recap of some of the things and who we lost last week. Then the Troupe starts performing for a little bit until a commercial is set on, prompting the stage managers to start ordering set up for our theme.

I turn to Harry and smile. "It was just always something that I loved doing. I've wanted to be some kind of a performer since I was really young, and dancing came easier to me than, let's say, acting. You don't have to put your voice into dancing, you just do it. I had a few personal lessons here and there and I got better on my feet. I learned all the important dances that I needed to know as soon as I arrived here in America."

"What, did they not have ballroom dance classes where you lived in Ireland?"

"They did, but the drive was too far and parents didn't want to, according to them, pay so much money for something that I could teach myself. Every professional dance I know now was learned over the course of my last years of high school, and throughout my entire college life."

"How did you pay for dance lessons and university? Did you have a job?"

"The dance lessons were my job. I would learn with a group for us to perform on a stage somewhere for other's to watch. Depending on whether I had a lead role or just an on the side part, and the turnout of how many people came to see it, was how I was paid. Also, I lived off campus at Santa Monica College, which also had a Dance Department that I could take classes for. It was kind of expensive, but since I didn't live on campus and I didn't do any special activities aside from dance, I managed to get through."

"Did you still do the show even during university?"

"Yeah. I started here a few months before I turned twenty as a back-up dancer with The Troupe at the end of season 16."

"You've been here for seven seasons?" He asks incredulously.

"Yup. I will have been on the show for 5 years on April 30th, 2017."

"Wow. How did you survive doing the show for two nights and practicing in between classes?"

"It was pretty difficult at first, but it all depended on if the person I was paired with wanted to comply with my schedule. On Monday's and Tuesday's, I would take all morning classes if I could and spend the entire afternoon and night and with whoever I was paired with for practice and the show at 8. On Wednesday's and Thursday's, I often found myself making my partner wait up for me because I had a class that was running a bit late or something went wrong. Some were understanding, but some were just assholes about it. Oh, but if I ever interfered with their precious schedule, then I was in for it."

"What did they do?" He looked kind of fearful, not really understanding what I meant.

"They would usually just complain to the managers and producers to put them with a new partner because I was being too complicated. Luckily, the people who run the show knew how hard I was trying to keep up with their schedule and get time free for practice so they just shrugged it off. I graduated towards the end of last season. You're the first person who I've been able to devote all my time to."

"I feel special." He smiles.

I roll my eyes and reply with a snarky, "you are."

"Nic?" Calls one of the stage managers. I look up to find that the set-up crew have returned and are all lounging about the room, waiting for the next time that they will have to run out and do what they did last time. "You're on in about a minute."

"Thanks." I stand up, holding a hand out for Harry to pull himself up with. He smiles and takes it, not letting go until we have to part ways and get in our starting positions. When I look up at the screen that everyone in the audience is entranced by, I see a close up clip of mine and Harry's kiss last week, followed by the overhead voice introducing us.

"Dancing the Quickstep, Harry Styles, and his partner, Nicolette Horan."

The song begins, and I notice Harry's cheeks have been tinted a light pink and a small, airy smile graces his lips.

We move into action right after the first lyrics are sung.

"Daisy is darling, Iris is sweet. Lily is lovely, Blossom's a treat. Of all the sweethearts, I've yet to meet, Well I finally chose an American beauty rose."

The song is short, as is the dance, but both Harry and I are out of breath by the time the song finishes. The Quickstep has always been one of those songs that can still make me forget my breathing technique.

Again, the judges praise how well we did on our dance and are hoping we are able to deliver that later on during the team dance.

Harry and I make our way up to the Skybox where most of the couples are sitting. Louis' mimes a gagging face and I roll my eyes, kicking him in the shin when I walk by.

"It's strange to see Nicolette out of breath when she goes over to the judges table. Do you think that's a sign that you did a good job?" Erin starts.

"I'm hoping. Harry caught onto the dance pretty well, despite his jelly legs, and I was trying to make things easy for him."

"What about you, Harry? Do you think you delivered well compared to last week?"

Harry chuckles and squeezes my hip lightly. "I thought we did pretty well, but nothing will ever be able to beat last week for me."

Erin goes on with asking similar questions before we are prompted to turn towards the screen so we can see what scores we got.

We come out with a 39 for our dance, with Len, or course, being the one that gave us a 9.

_-_-_

Harry and I spend most of the time before our team dance just sitting around and talking about whatever comes up. Most of the couples have scores that are equal or very close to our score, and Louis and Demi end up coming out with a 40.

The team before us - consisting of Jack and Karina, Amy and Liam, and Zayn and Peta - have just sat down in the Skybox. Their team earned a 37, which will probably be hard to beat.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but I can already guess what is it. "You're nervous." I stop him.

"How do you know?"

"Because you're always nervous. Especially when you see other people's high score."

"You know me so well." Harry and I smile at each other for a moment before the tranquil silence it destroyed when Louis randomly hops on my lap and kisses my cheek.

"I do wish I didn't have to break up this wonderful bonding moment, but alas, the screen seems to tell me that we will be starting our dance in about a minute."

"So what?" Harry asks.

"So, get your perky little asses out onto the stage and in position. Derek and Lorde are already out there."

"So why aren't you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Because I was given the horrible task of trudging all the way back here to get you two out of each others asses and onto the stage. Let's go." Louis pulls me up, and I reach a hand out to help out of his own chair. Louis lets go, but Harry and I continue to keep hold on each other until we get onto the stage.

When we get into your positions, I see all of us on screen. Louis is in the middle giving some kind of instruction, as Demi, Lorde, and Derek are all spaced out from each other in a semi-circle around him. And then there's Harry and I; we're close together, with Harry's arms around my waist and one of mine placed on his lower back. I'm trying to pay attention to Louis while Harry gives no mind to him. He's whispering something into my ear, far too close for it to be taken as platonic. The camera gives a close up on everyone else in the room, and you can see Louis roll his eyes, Derek trying to hold back a laugh, and the girls smiling over at us lightly.

I look down from the screen at Harry, who also has his eyes glued on the video. It's now going over a different segment, but Harry doesn't look away.

Finally, about ten seconds before we are supposed to start dancing, Harry looks over at me and catches my gaze. He notices that I'm staring and winks, blowing a kiss. I roll my eyes and look over to Louis, who is faking a gagging movement yet again.

The lights go up and the beat of the song begins.

"Don't look back, ooh a new day is breakin'. It's been too long since I felt this way. I don't mind, ooh where I get taken. The road is callin', today is the day."

The group segment is finished only a short way into the song, and Lorde and Derek begin their personal dance. After that, Demi and Louis go on to dance, followed be Harry and I. At the end, the other two jump in with our dance, and we finish off with another group segment.

The song is over relatively quick, and it seems to go by faster since we don't have to dance the whole time.

Harry and I hug after we finish, as do the other two couples. He presses a kiss to my cheek, whispering in my ear on the way over to the judges table, "I'm not too nervous because of the high score now."

And he's right; there was no need to be nervous, as our Team comes out with a 38 for the night.


	18. Reunion

The next night, Jack and Karina are booted off. It was kind of expected, seeing how they had the lowest judge's score, but it was still sad to see them go.

I'm actually surprised how good we've been doing this season. We haven't been in the bottom two, or even in jeopardy for that matter, not even as a joke just to rile the audience up.

After the show ended on Tuesday, everyone was rounded up for a mini-meeting in one of the practice rooms. Jack had just left after saying good-bye, so I know it must have been something that has to do with the show next week. The managers don't want to put him through the sadness of not being able to participate, even though we all know that's how he feels anyways.

"Alright, before you all start asking what your dances are, we just need to tell you that there will only be one dance for each of you." All the dancers look around confused, while most of the Stars sigh in relief. "The reason being is that each dance will have to go throughout the whole song. Now, before you all start choosing songs that are really short, each one must be at least 3 minutes long."

"But why?" Peta asks.

"We thought it would be a good idea. I know you're all used to having two dances within the last few weeks of the competition, but we wanted to spend some extra time focusing on the bond that has formed over the last few weeks between the couples."

It's strange to hear this new arrangement. We're all so used to the other dancing style.

"It's only for this week. Next week will go as normal; with the new dance, and old dance that you've already performed, and then for the remaining three, the fusion dance."

We all nod in reluctant agreement. I look up at Harry, and he smiles down at me slightly. After that, they give us all our dance for the week.

_-_-_

Harry and I had Jazz as our dance. I already knew as soon as they told me what song I would pair it with, and I'm excited to tell Harry.

It's currently Wednesday evening, and Harry is making us a late dinner that consists of just random canned food that he had left in his cabinet and some leftover chicken from a meal he made us a few nights ago.

"I do know how to cook, you know." I say when he turns down my offer to help him for the third time. I'm sitting on the counter and watching him switch between stirring the corn and swishing the gravy

"Really? I never noticed with how much you offer fast food to me." He teases.

"Hey, I said I know how to cook, I didn't say I ever feel like actually doing it."

Harry laughs and stops stirring the corn. He sets the spoon down and comes to stand by my legs, rubbing my thighs with a hand on each one. I spread my thighs just enough so his torso can fit in between them.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asks randomly. I cock my head a little.

"Did you mean to say that aloud?" Is my first question.

He nods a little. "I didn't want to make it awkward or anything, so I just... asked. You can say no, I understand if it's too soon since we've only known each other a couple months now."

We both stay silent for a second, letting the sounds of the oven be heard through the silence. Harry is still rubbing his hands up and down my thighs, trying to keep things normal between us.

After a moment of listening to the corn water boil, I finally answer. "Yeah, sure."

"Sure as in you will go on a date with me or sure as in it's too soon?"

"Which do you think?"

"I'm hoping the first one..."

"Well your hopes are answered because sure, I'll go on a date with you." I shrug, not trying to make it seem like a big deal.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm probably shit at dates because I've never actually been on one, but we can try."

Again, silence falls over the room. Harry's hands have since moved up to my hips, rubbing up and down with his thumbs. I lean over a little and press a kiss onto his forehead.

He smiles a little, "What was that for?"

"You have a pimple there and I wanted to inform you in a cute way. You didn't seem to get the message."

His hand slaps up on his forehead, feeling around for any kind of bump that wasn't there before. After he doesn't find one, he looks at me accusingly.

"Gotcha."

He rolls his eyes. I smile cheekily.

_-_-_

After Harry dropped me off back at my apartment, I text Louis to see if he's still awake. He replies with 'no, I'm sleeping.'

I call him a few seconds later, waiting until the ringing stops so I can tell him about mine and Harry's date.

He answers on the second ring. "I thought I told you I was sleeping."

"Too fucking bad. I have news."

"I don't care."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't. If you would fuck off now, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Harry asked me out on a date." I interrupt him.

There's a loud sound as if the phone fell out of his hand, a muffled 'shit' before Louis speaks again clearly. "Haha, funny. Really, it's hilarious. That's why I dropped my phone and the screen cracked, asshole."

I don't control your body functions."

"Whatever. Why did you call me?"

"I already told you. Harry asked me out on a date."

"Is that it? Because if it is, I don't care. Knock yourself out with him. Seriously, it's about time you found a boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. He just asked me out on a date, that's it."

"What the hell's the difference?"

"Exhibit A of reasons why Louis Tomlinson doesn't have a girlfriend."

He scoffs through the phone. "I'm amazing at relationships, thank you."

"Since when?"

"Since I've actually dated someone before."

"Yeah, in 250 B.C. Honestly, Louis, you're about as experienced in relationships as I am."

"Alright, alright. I didn't know it was pick apart Louis' relationship status night."

"That's every night, you just never notice because you're too busy trying to convince yourself that you're good at relationships."

"Can we get back to you and Harry? Why did you call me about this?"

I sigh, "I need dating advice."

"Ha, you do realize you are just contradicting your statement from earlier?"

"Shut up and help me."

"Fine. What do you need?" I hear the sound of blankets being drawn and I can only assume he's sitting up in his bed.

"I mean, it's not like I can't just go with things as usual, but it's different. This is a date. Aren't you supposed to, like, do something for a date? Like dress a certain way, or act a certain way."

"No. Just be yourself."

"But I don't even know where he's taking me, if he's taking me anywhere at all. What if it's something really fancy? What if it's not fancy at all and I overdress?"

"Why didn't you ask him all this shit?"

"I did, but he refused to answer me. It pissed me off, because he knows I hate surprises." I think back to the conversation we had and roll my eyes.

"Well, when did he ask you? And when is the date?"

"He asked at, like, 7:30. The date is at some point tomorrow."

"Then it's probably something simple. He wouldn't plan something really fancy or something that he has to go very far to plan if he only just asked you and the date is tomorrow. It would be stupid if he did all this planning before he even asked you, because you might has said no, and then all the plans go out the window. Don't stress yourself out, Nic. As I said, just be yourself. And even if it were anything fancy, you shouldn't let that change how to act or what you wear."

I sit cross-legged on my bed with my back pressed to my headboard, going over everything Louis has said. He's probably right about everything, except there's one more thing worrying me. "But, Lou, he's a millionaire who could buy out anything for like a year. I don't think a little time shortage could stop him from doing something fancy or far away."

"And you seriously think that he would buy something out, cancelling off all the plans of everyone else who were going there on that night, just for a little date. I don't know how to tell you this without offending you or him, but, Nic, your boyfriend is too nice for his own fucking good. He wouldn't do that to anyone, even if it would save the world." 

Again, I think about what Louis said. I know I should probably defend Harry, but I don't think I can because it's true. Harry would never do that.

Before I can reply, Louis starts talking again. "And if he really does what you said, then he's changed drastically since the last time I talked with him, and that was yesterday. So, follow my advice, and don't stress. Honestly, stress doesn't look good on you. It's better when you're a carefree little fucker who doesn't give a shit about anyone else's opinion of you."

"Thanks, Louis. Alright, I'll let you go back to sleep now. I'll probably do the same."

"Night, asshole."

"Night, dickhead."

Louis hangs up before me. I scoot down off the headboard and lay down, pressing my phone against my chest and thinking about the date tomorrow. I wonder how it will go.

_-_-_

The next evening, I spend most of my time in my room, choosing between all my band shirts for tonight. I already know that I'll be wearing my light grey skinny jeans, so I want a shirt that has some kind of grey on it.

I can't choose if I want to wear my skull 'Of Mice & Men' shirt, or my Orphan Black 'Fetch Me Something Gay' shirt.

Harry didn't tell me what time he would be here. I'm only guessing that he will be showing up around dinner time or so, since it's already getting a bit late to begin with.

I can't help but criticize my wardrobe as I look into it. Almost everything I own is dark or black, and the only nice things I own are either too small or worn to the point of ripping. My taste in clothes has changed a lot since I lived back in Ireland.

My mind has only been focused on the date all night and all morning. I haven't been able to get anything productive done because my mind keeps flashing away to my future plans. Luckily I had already finished planning out this week's dance and chose a song. I have yet to get Harry's dancing perfected and tell him the song, but my mind is already occupied.

This just proves that there is no such thing as multi-tasking when it comes to me.

Because of my constant mulling over tonight, my room has turned from one of partial cleanliness, to a complete disaster. Clothes are strewn about, my bed isn't made (as in one pillow is half way off the bed and my large comforter is on the floor.), and my closet is slightly ajar with shoes that are blocking the way from it closing successfully.

I finally decide to wear my skull shirt, pulling it on over my head and running my hand through my hair a few times to straighten is out again.

Afterwards, I contemplate if I should do something else with my hair. I've never done something special to it outside of the show, but I remember how much praise I had gotten the first time I curled it for the show. My hair is natural straight and boring, so I always try to make it look a bit better by putting it up, braiding it the night before so it's wavy, and I took the colour out at the tips so it was a brown into blonde ombre. My hair is also very long so sometimes it's hard to keep control of, but I do often think that I have an advantage because it's straight instead of curly.

I go into my personal bathroom and look into the mirror. I've already taken a shower and brushed my teeth, now all I need to do it something with my hair and put on deodorant.

As I'm still running my hand through my hair, there is a loud knock at my door. Harry's here already? It's only 5:30. Sure, I don't know exactly when he is supposed to arrive, but I made all my plans to correspond with Harry picking me up at 6.

Either way, I smile brightly, rushing out of my bathroom into the shirt corridor where my front door is located.

I stop for a second, looking around my lounge, just in case Harry wanted to stay here for a little while before we left. Luckily, my lounge and kitchen are both clear of any mess; it's my room that I would have to worry about. We shouldn't be going in there anyway.

I pull the door open, smiling at my guest.

Or guests, as Harry isn't the one standing at my door, and instead three people I wasn't expecting to see again until the end of the season.

"Niall." My mother calls me by that wretched name that I hate.

I could have slammed the door closed, but my father's foot stops in my doorway before I can.


	19. Casual

I try to shove his foot out from the doorway while continuing to push against the door, hiding myself away behind it. I don't know when Harry will arrive, but I know this would be quite a scene for his to arrive to. I'd rather him come around when my parents are gone already. Hopefully, according to my efforts to not even let them in the first place, that will be soon.

I also don't want my mood to change any for our date. It wouldn't cause a very good first dating impression with me brooding.

"Nicolette," Someone calls from outside the door. I know that neither of my parents would dare call me that, and I'm actually scared that Harry is already here. The voice was mumbles so I couldn't really tell if it was him or not.

I stop pushing on the door. My door swings back open and my dad stumbles in. "You know, I could report you for breaking and entering."

"We didn't break and enter." My mum starts, stepping into the doorway after my father and steadying him on his feet. Surprisingly, Meghan steps in after them, a guilty look on her face.

"You entered without permission, and you could have broken the door or damaged the wall if it hit the wall. You're damn lucky I have a door stopper." I glare at Meghan, shaking my head.

"Nic, I can explain--"

I shout out my first few words to make her stop talking, "I don't want to hear any bull shit you want to throw at me. Actually, I don't want to hear any of you; just leave."

"Nia--"

"What did I just fucking say? Leave." I glance at my television clock. Harry is probably going to arrive soon. "I have a date, and I don't want any of you intervening."

"You and Harry are dating? Finally!" Meghan smiles at me, but I just continue to glare. She sighs, "Look, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Why would you bring them here." I demand.

"I told you that they could learn to understand."

I scoff, "And it doesn't seem they have, now does it? They're still calling me Niall; I don't know what the exact definition of 'understanding' is, but I know it's nothing like that." I eye both my parents up with a hard look in my eye, trying to tell them without speaking that I still don't trust them.

"We've been here--"

"You're fucking kidding me."

My mum pipes up, "Niall, language."

"No. You don't get to chastise me for my language." I snap, pointing my index finger at her with a bent elbow.

"Nic, please. We arrived here back when the season started..." Meghan begins.

"We've been watching you on the show." My dad adds with a tiny smile. "We never knew how good of a dancer you were."

"Yeah, well you never cared enough to get me trained because it was 'too girly for a boy to learn'."

"When you asked to learn, we thought you meant things like ballet and gymnastics."

"You were dead fucking wrong, now weren't you?"

"Niall, stop it. We're sorry, okay?" I don't care to figure out who said, it because right after I heard 'Niall' being uttered again, I walked away.

"If you're truly sorry, call me by my real name."

"We just did." I can hear a slap noise, and look behind me to see Meghan with her hand to her forehead and shaking her head.

"No, you didn't, and you haven't ever since you've arrived. If you can't, then you can get out of my flat, and hopefully my life, forever."

"We're not going to call you by a name that you gave yourself."

"Actually, I didn't come up with my name. Greg did; has he ever mentioned that? If not, there you go. I didn't 'give myself' my name." I turn back around and glare at all of them again. "Now, say it. Call me Nicolette Janelle Horan, just once. Then we'll talk."

"Niall, this is ridiculous. We're your parents--"

"You may be my parents, but you will never be my mum and dad. You made me, you brought me into this world... but you don't accept me for the way I am. Some parents you are." I roll my eyes. "And you," I direct my finger at Meghan, "you tricked me into thinking that I actually had someone who understood the old me and the new me. Apparently, I was wrong."

My parents and Meghan glance at each other, before turning back to me.

"Niall, please come home. That's why we came here to America. We wanted to get you to come home. Maybe then, you'll be reminded of everything you've been missing for the last decade."

"You didn't even care to keep track of how long I was gone. Wow, thanks, that definitely makes me want to come back. I'll go pack right now." I walk over and open the door again. "Leave, or I'll fucking push you."

"We'll get you to come home soon, Nialler. We will." They don't let me argue, and instead walk out of my apartment one by one, with Meghan trailing behind slowly and looking at me sorrowfully.

I roll my eyes and slam the door after her.

_-_-_

After my parents and Meghan leave, I punch one of the pillows on my couch that I leave there just in case I want to take a mid-day nap and don't feel like going to my room. It was either that or screaming, and I really don't want to be that person in an apartment complex. We already have too many of those as it is.

I had actually contemplated calling Harry and telling him that I wasn't in the mood to leave my flat, but I know that would give off the vibe that I'm trying to bail on our date, and I don't want him to feel as if I never wanted to go on a date with him.

Instead, I just go into my bathroom, brushing through my hair a few times, and packing a little bag for tonight. Knowing Harry, he won't even considering taking me back home, so I might as well get some of the things I need to stay over the night.

About 15 minutes after I spent my time getting anger out, Harry finally arrives. I can't tell if I'm excited for the date, or relieved that I'm finally talking to someone today that I can trust.

As soon as I open the door, I'm greeted with a wide smile and dimples staring back at me. I have to look up a little bit to meet Harry's eyes, and when I do, the green of his eyes are shimmering with excitement. I've never seen a happier person before.

Strangely enough, he's not wearing some kind of over-dressed suit. Instead, he's wearing a dark maroon coloured shirt with black flowers littered all across it, only half buttoned, as usual, and his black skinny jeans. He also has on his usual pair of brown Chelsea boots. I'm hoping he's not planning on taking me anywhere fancy based on his outfit choice. I've never really seen him dress up for anything in pictures that I would come across on my Twitter, but I don't really know what his definition of 'fancy clothes' are. I could never know, considering what he's wearing now makes up 90 percent of his daily outfits anyway.

Before he can greet me, I begin talking before him, "Sorry if I'm not dressed appropriately. I don't really have anything fancy, and I didn't want to go out and buy something that I would only wear for one night, and we might not have ended up going somewhere fancy. I called Louis and asked, but he just told me I should wear what I usually wear." Rambling has never really been something that took over many of my conversations, but I find myself doing it in front of Harry because, well, I'm nervous.

"I'm happy that you followed Louis' advice, then. I would never want you to change something about yourself just because of a date. I like you for everything that makes you unique." He eyes me up and down twice, taking in everything about my outer physique. We make eye contact, and he laughs quietly. "Including your style."

"Good," I smile back stepping back from the doorway to let him in, the first time I've done so willingly in quite a long time. "I wasn't planning on changing anyways." My smile is replaced with a little smirk, causing both of us to laugh.

"Same old Nic, as usual." He steps over the threshold, taking his jacket off.

"Damn right."

He laughs again and throws his coat at me, making my hair fly up in places. The zipper hits the button on my jeans, causing a small clanking noise sound out.

I gasp dramatically, throwing his jacket off me letting it land unceremoniously on the ground in a crumpled pile. "And I thought you were a gentleman."

"I never said that I was." He shrugs, picking the jacket back up and hanging it over his left forearm. "Are you ready to go?"

"Well I was, until you threw a piece of clothing at me and it messed up my hair. Asshole." I mutter, turning around and walking off to my bathroom.

I'm stopped by Harry's hand grabbing my own and pulling me back. We both look at our hands as we entwine our fingers together like we've done it a million times. "You've never let a little out-of-place hair stop you from gallivanting off and getting into trouble." I look down. "Don't let the fact that this is a date get to you, dove. Treat it as you would treat everything. I don't want you to change because of 'first impressions'. Trust me, I've already seen enough of you, and I promise that this won't make me stop liking you." Harry's little speech warms me heart, and I've never thought I would get that feeling.

I don't know what to reply, so I just roll my eyes and push him out of my apartment. I grab my own bag and checking my pocket for my phone before following after him and closing the door behind me.

He pulls me in, grabbing my left hand with his own, and placing his right hand on my lower back so I would walk forward. The elevator ride is quiet, with us catching eye contact every once in a while. He smiles every time we do.

We resume a similar position when we are walking to his car. He follows me over to passenger side of the car, and I beat him to opening the door. He pouts as I smirk. I sit back and let him close the door for me.

When he enters on the driver's side of the car, he starts talking, "I know I never claimed to be a gentleman, but you could have let me be polite, at least."

"I didn't like the romantic atmosphere, so I ruined it. Romance makes me puke."

"And you're just now telling me this as we're going on a date."

"Yeah, basically."

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but it's probably just Meghan sending me another apology text. She can honestly fuck off.

I'm not sure how long we were in the car for. Harry let me plug my phone in willingly, so I knew he trusted me not to put on any of my metal music. I smile down at my phone as I look up one of the many bands I listen to that aren't metal on Spotify. I'm hoping he'll like them, considering I started listening to them ever before I got really into metal music.

We both listen to most of the song until it gets to the chorus, when I begin to sing along.

"And we all look so damn happy, even though we're all so lonely. and we're standing close together cause, we think that it's the only way to feel, like we're not alone. Like we're not alone."

Harry catches eye contact with me after he stops at a red light, biting his lip. I smile and continue to sing quietly, but still loud enough that he can hear me above the song.

I continue to serenade him when the chorus comes up each time until the song ends. When I stop my music from playing and unplug it from the console, he says, "You're a good singer."

"You could barely even hear me."

"But what I could hear sounded really good." I shrug, flipping my phone around in my hands a few times. "Alright, we're here."

I look up from my phone at where we've parked. I have to lean forward a bit to read it, but when I do, I burst into a fit of laughter.

"What?" He frowns, following my eyes that lay on the blue letters. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, this is wonderful. I love breakfast for dinner." I'm still laughing a little, turning back to him. "I haven't been to IHOP in ages."

"Me neither. That's why I wanted to come here. I know this date is supposed to be in favour of you, but I felt like pancakes, so I took you somewhere that I wanted to go."

"Isn't that how dates are supposed to be? Something that is beneficial to both parts of the couple."

"I guess, but no one really abides by that. Whoever takes the person out on the date is usually expected to do something that the other person would like, even if they hate it."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my entire life. And that's saying something because my best friend is Louis Tomlinson."

We catch eye contact for a second, and then I pull on my door handle, kicking the door out when it props open. My eyes follow the door the entire way out until it stops moving. I let out a breath when it didn't hit the car next to us.

Harry also opens his door, coming around to my side and taking my hand. "It's only Thursday, why the hell is it so busy?" I look around at the full parking lot, seeing a variety of new and older cars.

"People are too lazy to make themselves dinner. Hm, who does that remind me of?" He pinches me in the side.

"I don't know, that type of behaviour doesn't sound familiar at all." I smile cheekily.

Harry leads up both towards the front doors of the restaurant. We get in through the first set of double doors into a small waiting area which doesn't have anybody in them, but he pulls me back when I go to open the next set of doors that lead into the actual restaurant.

"Hey, Nic?" I look back at him. "This is the first time we've gone out somewhere, you know, public together. I already asked the manager to keep an eye on people and not let anyone take pictures, but don't, like, get annoyed if some people come up and ask for a picture or something. I don't know if you've dealt with this kind of thing before, but I have, and it does get annoying, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"If you're afraid that I'll tell your fans to fuck off, you don't need to worry. I do live in Los Angeles, Harry, and I do know what it's like to be associated with famous people. Trust me, I've been out before with friends and we've been stopped a few times because of fans. It's no big of a deal. Well, as long as they don't form a mob around our table and I won't be able to get my food. Then I'll be pissed." He laughs slightly. "It's who you are, Harry. You can't change the fact that your fanbase is too fucking big to keep everyone in check."

"I know, I just wanted to warn you. Being interrupted like that can get a bit annoying, especially on something that's supposed to be private and special."

"Do what you told me; don't let the fact that it's a date get to you. And either way, after they get their picture or whatever, they'll probably go back and eat their own food, right? Do fangirls leave after they get what they wanted?"

"I don't know, it depends on the fan." Harry pushes the door open for me. I roll my eyes.

"So how did you know I don't like fancy stuff? Is it that obvious?"

"Well kinda, but your brother kind of gave me pointers."

I laugh, "Remind me to thank him for that."


	20. Shirts

Surprisingly, there weren't many people that bothered us during our meal. Almost all the girls and some guys who wanted something had come around right at the beginning when we were contemplating our meal choices.

Harry didn't get much, which made me feel kind of bad when I got a huge omelet with an added side of bacon and toast. He told me that I shouldn't worry about it, and I eventually stopped when he began taking some of my food from my plate.

I'm not sure when we left; all I know is that it was dark by the time we made it back to Harry's. He opened my door for me on the way out of the restaurant and also in and out of the car, making me punch him in the chest because he's being too gentleman-like.

We walk up to the door together. Harry is holding my hand before he kisses it on the doorstep, followed by pecking my lips lightly. He goes at far as to give me the key to the door and walk back to his car, starting it up again. I shake my head and go into his house, locking the door back for when he comes back and tries to get in.

I watch out the window as he actually does drive off, his car leaving my view.

I walk into his kitchen and get myself a glass of apple juice, sitting on the couch until he returns. After five minutes, I get bored and click the television on, flickering through a few different programs before I settle on an episode of Big Bang Theory from three years ago. I sit there watching the rest of the episode, not even noticing that Harry hasn't returned when it rolls over into the next episode.

My eyes look towards the clock on the cable box, seeing it's almost 10 and Harry still hasn't returned.

My knees pop as I stand back up from my seated position on the couch. Knowing Harry, he probably got lost in his own neighbourhood and can't find his way back.

I roll my eyes, turning the television off with the remote and dropping it on the couch. Harry has a designated basket for the remotes, but it wasn't there when I picked it up, so I won't put it in there when I put it back down.

Even though Harry is okay with me sleeping in his bed, I still feel weird going into his room when he's not here. It feels like a breach of privacy. Instead, I make my way towards the guest room which I actually haven't been in for quite a while.

Sadly, though, I'm forced to go into his room, because I forgot the one thing that I would only need to go in there for.

Pyjamas.

Fuck's sake.

I stand back up from placing my bag onto the floor and sigh. Of course, of all things. I could very well fall asleep in this, but I was planning on wearing this tomorrow, and I really don't want it to look like I literally fell asleep in my clothes.

I stop in front of his closed door, trying to remember where the light switch is, because I really don't want to be in here longer then I need to be.

I flick the light on before I even step foot into the room. After my eyes adjust to the light, I make my way towards his draws, where I'm hoping he has normal clothes to wear.

I pull out a black Ramones t-shirt, holding it close to my body to see if it would fit. It seems a bit oversized for my body, which means it would be a bit tight on Harry.

I look around, making sure Harry hasn't returned or has any cameras on, before I pull my own shirt off and pull his onto me. During the time that it's going over my head, I'm able to smell it a bit, only to find out that it doesn't smell much like Harry, but instead some random laundry detergent brand. I'm guessing he hasn't worn this shirt in a while.

I roll my eyes, thinking back to his weird shirts that he doesn't wear properly. I have one in particular on my mind, some bright yellow shirt with big red flowers littered all over it.

I leave the room just as fast as I went in, shutting off the light and cracking the door.

There's still no sign of Harry when I get back to my room. He hasn't texted or called me yet, meaning he's not outside knocking on the door, trying to get in.

I resort to calling him instead, holding the phone up to my ear. After a moment of it ringing, I notice the sound of vibrating coming from somewhere else in the house.

I follow the noise to his bedroom door, pushing it open and seeing Harry's phone screen lit up and the phone vibrating on the edge of his nightstand. One more ring and the phone falls to the floor.

I turn the light on again and go to pick it up, seeing that the screen is still lit. I see that there's a missed call from his mum about an hour ago, and the call from me a few seconds ago. I lock the phone and place it back on charge, setting the phone on the nightstand again.

My eyes travel over his bedspread, the fluffy white comforter looking more inviting than the one in the guestroom. Just then, my eyes are covered over, but I can still see some light filtering through, so I can only guess it's someone's hands.

I squeak, my leg kicking up behind me on a reflex, trying to trip whoever it is that's got me.

Harry's annoying laughter is heightened in my senses. I pull my body out from under his hands and turn around to see his trying to control his laughter.

"And where the hell did you come from?" I ask, pushing his down onto the bed. He falls onto it unceremoniously, his limbs sprawled out, almost covering the whole bed. He puts a hand up and offers it to me. When I take it, he tugs onto me so I'll fall down next to him.

"I snuck in through the guestroom balcony. I saw your stuff in there, and I'm glad you weren't in there when I got in because it didn't go as smoothly as I planned."

"What took you so long?"

"Well, I was driving around because I wanted you to already be in bed when I got in so I could scare you, but then when I did get here, I noticed that you locked the doors so I had to find another way in. I would have used my balcony, but there's no tree or anything close to it so I could climb up."

"You seemed to have quite the adventure." I tease. Instead of rolling his eyes like I would do, he leans down a little bit so he could kiss me.

"Are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah. I was planning on sleeping in the guestroom since you weren't here, so I'll go get my stuff."

"I already told, you're welcome to my bed anytime." He smiles innocently.

"Your smile should not be as innocent as it is considering what you just said." I point out. His smile changes to a smirk, and I roll my eyes, picking up a pillow and shoving it against his face and holding it there for a few seconds. When he pulls it off and tries to throw it at me, I'm already out of the room and halfway down the hallway.

I head into the guestroom, pulling the sheet back that I've moved on the bed and grabbing my bag. On my way out, I check in front of the balcony to see that there are a few branches that has fallen from the tree onto the balcony because of Harry weighing it down. I kick them off and close the balcony door, leaving the room.

After I turn the light off and close the bedroom door, I turn back to Harry's door and see the pillow just barely outside the door. I pick it up on my way in and close that door behind me as well.

"You could have killed me." He says, already hidden beneath his covers.

I go over and plug my phone charger in and resting my phone on the nightstand on my side of the bed, waiting for the screen to light up so I know it's charging. "You were being perverted. That's my thing."

He laughs again, pulling me down on top of him with a hand on my waist.

I comply with him as he pulls me up so I'm lying my head onto his pillow instead of mine, letting him cuddle into me. His body curls into me a but, but he still has full control of how we're laying. His head is laying farther up on the pillow so his chin can just barely rest on my head, while my arms curlce around his torso and squeeze.

"G'night, darling dove."

"Night, babe."

I'm not sure when Harry fell asleep, but I do know that I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

_-_-_

The next few days are mainly spent practicing for our dance on Monday. The season is wrapping up and soon, someone will go how with the mirror-ball trophy in a few weeks.

It's crazy to think about how far Harry and I have come. Honestly, I never have really sought out to win. I'm lucky enough to even be here, doing the thing I love the most week after week, with a new partner every few months. In my time off, I generally spend my time doing nothing. I'm still allowed in the studio if it's open if I want to help out or use the practice rooms, but I generally don't do that. I'm so accustomed to dancing with a partner that dancing alone in a room by myself would just seem strange to me.

Louis and I would sometimes get together over the breaks to dance around and goof off together, and also Derek, Henry, and Val when he used to be here, we would create little group dances and pull pranks on crew members or workers.

Although I've never strived to win, that doesn't mean the person I was paired with hasn't wanted to win. The farthest I've ever gotten with anyone on the show is to the week just before the semi-finals, and that was a few years ago when I didn't really have any friends here so all I really ever had to do was create dances and practice. That's still all I do nowadays, but ever since I've met Harry, he's changed my life around.

Harry has never really shown a desire to win. He would sometimes comment on things and say that it would be nice to, but has never outright said that he would want to win.

My mind flashes back to my parents. Their vague answer as to what and when they are going to "get me to come back" still replays over in my ears. I hope their useless planning doesn't interfere with Harry or the end of this season. Strangely enough, I want Harry to win. I want us to be able to go up there and have him accept the trophy with a big smile on my face. Just imagining it makes me smile.

"Ni?" Harry waves a hand in front of my face. "You alright?"

I blink a few times and avert my attention to Harry. "Sorry, I was thinking."

"About what?" He leads me to sit down on his couch, which I'm guessing means we're taking a break before practicing more.

"Just random things. The end of the season and such."

"Can you believe that it's already been two months since we started dancing together?"

"I know, it's crazy. These seasons always seem to fly by, and I always find myself doing the exact same thing once it's over. It's quite monotonous, you wouldn't believe."

"Maybe I could help with that. I mean, most of my time is spent here or back at home when I'm not on tour. You never know, I could move in here permanently."

"Aren't you going back on tour next year? I know you had a break for most of this year, but what about next year? You can't just disappear for two years straight."

"I didn't mean it like that, I meant that I could stay out here during my breaks. Or you could move back to England with me. Oh, or you could join me on tour?" He suggests.

"You're thinking a bit too far ahead, babe." I say. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into him o my shoulder is resting onto his chest.

"I know... I guess I get carried away sometimes. I've always wanted someone with me on tour or anywhere, really, that I could go to for comfort. Being on a tour bus gets quite boring when you're all alone."

"And you honestly think I could make that any better? I annoy you, ignore you, blast my music too loud, get in moods that come out of literally no where, I walk around with no pants on, barely ever wear a bra, I--"

"Those are all things I've gotten used to just having you around here, and I haven't gotten sick of you yet."

"You will."

"I won't, love. I promise."

The conversation seems to end there, as both of us get up, get into our starting positions, and I start counting off as we perfect our dance.


	21. Semi-Finals

Monday night arrived seemingly fast. I can't really tell if Harry's nervous or not, but, knowing him, he probably is.

"Hey," I call out to him. He turns to me from his leaning position against the wall. This is our last chance to practice, and Harry wanted to keep going until we've run out of time. "don't be nervous?"

"Who said I was?"

"You're always nervous."

"I never said that I was."

"Doesn't matter, because I know you are. Even with the way that you requested more practicing; it's obvious."

"Maybe i requested practicing because I wanted to be close to you without getting interrupted?"

"Knowing my friends, they'd barge in here either way and annoy me." He smiles. "C'mon, you don't have to be embarrassed that you're nervous."

He looks down. "I guess I just don't like that we're to this point in the season and I still end up getting nervous week after week."

"The dances progressively harder every week, so it's understandable." We both pause and just revel in the silence. "Can I tell you a secret?" He looks up at me with a sullen look on his face. "I still get nervous, all the time, that I will fail my Star and we'll get eliminated, especially when they show desire to win. I feel like I make the dances too easy or too hard, or there's a slip up that I didn't notice in practicing that the judges notice right away."

Before he can reply, there's a knock on the door,followed by a voice. "Nic, you guys are on after this break." I can't recognize the voice so I'm sure it's not Derek or Louis.

"Alright, we're coming." My voice is soft after my confession. I've never actually told anyone about my fear, or really any fears I have, so it's a bit strange telling anyone.

I start heading towards the door so I can escape further confrontation. "Dove," Harry calls me back. I stop moving and turn my head back slowly, but I don't get any closer to him. I like distance whenever I confess anything.

That doesn't stop him, though, when he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head on my shoulder. His body curls around mine so I can't escape.

"Is that another one of your fears? Telling people anything about you?" I stay silent. "Are you afraid you will lose people because you're being yourself? Being human?"

Yes. I'm terrified.

Instead of replying, I stay silent. No one has ever hit the nail on the head that easily when it comes to figuring me out.

"Nic!" Louis' voice then calls through the door before he barges in.

"We're coming!" I yell, worming out from Harry's arms and following after Louis.

We all head backstage, with Harry following closely behind me. Louis doesn't notice the tension between Harry and I as he slings an arm around my shoulder and stopping me right next to the entrance point to the stage.

"So, how is your little relationship going?" Louis asks. I shrug. I'm not sure what Harry did, but he didn't say anything, as I didn't hear him speak from behind me. Louis then lets go of me. "You're being boring. Bye." He walks off.

I continue to watch everyone set up the stage closely, watching where they place everything.

"Are you mad at me?" Harry asks. I shake my head. "Why does it seem like you are?"

"I'm not mad, Harry. It just hit me somewhere personal. I'm okay."

Before he's allowed to say anything else, the lights go up and Tom introduces us as the next couple to dance.

Harry and I head out onto the stage. I don't let him talk to me as we get into our starting positions.

"Dancing Jazz, Harry Styles, and his partner, Nicolette Horan."

The music starts off and I wait for the words to start before moving.

"My life is like a video game, trying hard to beat the stage, all while I am still collecting coins..."

Harry and I are both out of breath by the end of the song. Harry is looking at me with a smile as he leads us towards the judge's table.

"You're beautiful."

"Where did that come from?"

"I just feel that you're not told that enough." He turns away, but I can still see the smile on his face.

I roll my eyes and turn to the judges as well, not even trying to conceal my own grin.

By the end of the night, Harry and I had again topped the leaderboard with a perfect 40.

_-_-_

Later that night, Harry had brought me back to my own apartment. It was strange to see him turn in the direction of my flat instead of his house, but I didn't question it.

Harry got out of the car with me and we rode the elevator up together. We stopped in front of my door. I leaned on it while he stood in front of me. If this was some romance movie, he would have hugged me, kissed me passionately, and left with a blowing of a kiss.

Thankfully, this isn't a cheesy rom-com, and it's so easy to tell when Harry leans down, looing as if he's going to kiss me, and then veers off to the side and licks me cheek.

I coil back, my nose scrunching up. "You're disgusting!"

He laughs loudly, touching the tip of my nose with the tip of his tongue once before pulling back and taking a few steps away.

"If we were near a window, I'd throw you out of it. You got lucky this time, dick."

He comes closer and actually kisses me this time, with my head leaning back against the door since I moved back away from him, only guessing that he would lick me again.

After he pulls away, he sends me a cheeky grin and walks off towards the elevator, only turning back when he's in the metal box. I stick my middle finger up at him, and I just catch him mock offended face sent back to me right before the elevator doors close and he's lowered back down to the lobby.

I roll my eyes and fish my keys out from my pocket, unlocking the door and awaiting for the darkness of the room to overcome my senses.

Only, that doesn't happen, and I must have forgotten to turn the lights off before I left the apartment. I shrug and attempting to throw the key ring onto the coffee table in my living room all the way from my front door. I'm presuming that I missed when I don't hear a loud jangling noise, and instead an abrupt clank.

I hang my jacket on the door handle of the closet that holds all my other jackets carelessly, heading into my kitchen to fetch something for myself to drink. I pull out a plastic cup and fill it with apple juice, taking a sip before moving toward my living room.

The sight before me causes me to jump back, spilling most of the contents out from my cup and eventually dropping it with the mess I made. "Holy fuck!"

Sitting before me on my couches and chairs is both my parents, my landlord, Meghan, and my boss at Dancing With The Stars. They're all sitting around casually, as if they were invited in here willingly.

"How the hell did you get in here?" I ask.

"The landlord let us in." My parents start.

"He shouldn't be allowed to do that unless it was clarified at least a day before with my consent."

"I tried contacting you, but you didn't answer the phone and you weren't here when I came by to notify you. I've tried several times this week."

"Oh... uhm," I pause, looking over my options on who to interrogate first. I decide to keep talking with my landlord. "What is it that you needed, then, sir?"

"It appears that you will be moving out of here soon."

"What? I never planned on moving out."

"I have been told that you will be unable to continue paying your monthly rent from now on. Evicting people is always a harsh process, but lucky, your family had come by to take you in somewhere else."

I glance over at my parents before meeting eyes with him again. "I can still pay rent. Who told you I would be having financial issues?"

Before he can say anything, my boss begins talking. "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ruez, but I would like to answer this question for Nicolette." I see my parents wrinkle their noses in disgust at the name. "Ms. Horan, as sad as it is to say, but I must inform you that your current position at Dancing With The Stars has been revoked."

"Sir, I don't seem to understand." My eyes flash back and forth between all the people sitting in my living room, my breathing noticeably becoming faster.

"Due to your apparent relationship with a Star on the show this season, Harry Styles, we must let you go. It is against the rules set for the integrity of the show."

"Is that just a fancy way of saying I'm fired because I'm in a relationship with someone else on the show?"

He nods. "I'm sorry, Nicolette; I do wish we never had to have this conversation, but your current situation has gone against your contract."

"Bullshit." I mutter under my breath. "Complete, utter, bullshit."

It's silent for a moment as I think of my next question.

"What about the rest of the season? There's only a week left; can't I stay until the end and then leave?"

"I'm afraid not, Nicolette. We've allowed this behaviour to go on long enough. I was hoping you would mature a bit and end your relationship with Harry, but it seems that you haven't done so, and we need to end it now. We've already found a replacement for you. After tomorrow's elimination, regardless of any further movement in the season you might make, you will be expected to leave Dancing With The Stars."

My landlord and my boss both stand up, looking at me with pity-filled eyes. "I wish you luck, Ms. Horan. Hey, at least you have a family that is understanding of your mistakes and agreed to take you in on such short notice." He reaches out for a hand shake.

I try not to show how shaky and upset I am over all this being piled on me at once when we clasp hands for a strong, friendly good-bye.

My boss walks up to me next. "It has been a pleasure, working with you, Nicolette. I guarantee you will be able to pick up any other dancing job in no time. You have the talent for it." I bite my lip and blink multiple times. "Good luck." Instead of him sticking out a hand, he opens his arms, expecting a hug. I accept it, trying not to let any tears fall in this position. "You have great potential, Nicolette. Hopefully, it will help you to accomplish even more great things."

He pulls away and walks to the door where my landlord is still standing. The two men let themselves out, leaving me with just my parents and Meghan.

I sit down on the chair which my boss occupied, pressing the palms of my hands into both my eyes, blocking out all light and pushing in until I see random lined patterns on the back of my eyelids.

The feeling of someone sitting on the arm of the couch and wrapping me in one of their arms and pulling me close clouds my thoughts. "It's okay, Niall."

I shoot up, pushing my mother away and hoping she falls off the chair. She catches her balance, though, and that just makes me want to go over and push her down. "Don't you dare fucking call me that! This is your fault!"

"How else we were supposed to get you to come back to Ireland with us?" my dad asks.

"Maybe if you were fucking nice for once, and actually accepted me for who I am, I would have considered it." I rub my eyes again but don't see the light patterns this time.

My dad shrugs, "We tried accepting you. We hoped and prayed that you would come back with a realization that you were being ridiculous. We prayed that you were just being a rebelling teenager."

I throw myself back into the couch, looking up at them with a burning glare. Meghan is still sitting on the couch with a glum facial expression. "I don't know what you're definition of accepting is, but it's not that." I blink away any tears that have surfaced in my eyes, not wanting my emotions to get the best of me. I don't want them to think they've weakened me because of this. I'll continue to fight. I'll continue to fight for myself and my community.

"That's why we're bringing you back. If we take you back to Ireland, maybe you'll see what happened to cause you to be this way. We just want to know where we went wrong when it came to raising you. We didn't raise a snarky, immature girl. We raised a strong, mature man."

I stay silent. They just don't get it. No one does.

After about 20 seconds of complete silence, my mother makes a move to sit and comfort me again. As if it's a reflex, I shoot up from the couch, shaking my head and backing away.

"The one place you went wrong with raising me, is when you chose to be my parents, and not to be my family. Parents will raise you, feed you, give you shelter, maybe an education. A family will do all those things, but also love you, praise you, and accept you for who you are. You are my parents; not my family."

Again, a wave of silence takes over. I've pressed myself against the wall between the kitchen and the living room. My parents motion for Meghan to stand up, which she does. I glare at her, as well as the rest of my family, and motion them to the front door as a sign to leave.

My dad comes closer to me, holding up an envelope. "This is your plane ticket. Be ready by Wednesday night." He seems to contemplate if he should give it to me, before shaking his head and walking away, the envelope still in his hand. He must be afraid that I would rip it up, which I was actually planning on doing.

My parents leave through the front door, not noticing that Meghan is not behind them.

"Nic," She starts.

"Save it." I spat, biting into my cheek to avoid saying anything else. She doesn't deserve my time.

"I just... I'm sorry." She whispers, a sorrowful look in her eye. She also walks away, leaving my flat and closing the door gently behind her.


	22. Save The Last Dance For Me

I continue to press myself against the wall of my apartment for ten minutes after my family has left. My phone is going off in my pocket, I can hear the Skype chime, but I already know it's Meghan trying to grovel.

I'm trying not to cry, but it is particularly hard when all I can think about goes straight back to this dilemma. I feel like the life I fought for, the one I built for myself, the one I tried so hard to create, has been ripped away from me in the matter of seconds.

The chiming is suddenly cut off my a louder, more natural ringtone. I know I only have a few people set to this one, so it's definitely not Meghan, or any of my family trying to contact me. My first guess would be Harry, since he can't seem to leave me alone for longer than an hour.

"Hey." I answer right away after checking that my guess is correct, holding the phone a little bit away from my face so he can't hear any sniffling that I am doing.

Sadly, he catches on right away. "What's wrong? I was expecting you to text me right as you got in."

"I never said I would do that anyway." I wipe my cheeks for any rogue tears.

"I know, but it would have been nice to know that you didn't get home and fall asleep before even saying goodnight."

"You're so needy." I smile but don't allow myself to laugh, just in case it sounds forced. He'd definitely know something is wrong if I did that.

"Maybe I am, and I have a confession to make."

"Don't tell me you're still sitting outside my apartment, just waiting for me to come back down so you can take me back to yours. I must say, I was quite surprised when you immediately took me home, instead of assuming I would stay over like you usually do."

"No, I'm not still in the car park in front of your apartment building; I can promise you that."

"Oh goodie."

"But, I do want you to come over and stay tonight. I don't know, I guess I just want to savour the last few weeks we have together before I have to go off and start working again."

What he says just seems to make me more upset, as I remember my parents telling me how soon we will be leaving.

"I... alright. Stay there, I'll catch a bus or something."

"You don't need to do that. Hang on, I'm getting my keys now."

"I don't want you to do that. Stay right there; I'll be there soon."

"Are you okay, love? You sound like you've been crying."

"I'll see you soon." I decide to say. I was planning on muttering the usual, half-assed 'I'm fine' that everyone says so people will stop asking.

_-_-_

I'm surprised that the bus system was still running this late. The public transportation was fairly empty compared to how it would be during the day time. There's only a few business people and hospital workers that are going to and from work. The bus is mainly quiet, except for a few typing clicks on someone's phone at the back of the bus. I chose to sit in the front, so that just explains how quiet it was since I could hear it all the way from the back seats.

There isn't a bus stop directly in front of Harry's barricaded neighbourhood; it's actually quite a bit down from the actual entrance, but I don't mind the walk. It gives me a bit of time to think about what I'm going to say and do when Harry sees the remains of the state I was in less than an hour ago.

I also had a chance to send a text to Harry when I'm about 20 feet from the gate so I could be let in immediately and the gate-guard wouldn't have to buzz into Harry and get permission if I could progress forward. I'm not actually sure if the man at the front has ever actually met me, so he might buzz for him just in case.

When I do get into the fence, there is still a bit of a walk until I come up on Harry's house. He's standing on the front steps when I walk up. I can see him, but I'm guessing he still can't see me since I'm still kind of hidden between street lights.

When he does finally catch a glimpse of me, he comes off the stairs and walks across the lawn and hugging me. His body is a bit cold, so I'm guessing he's been out here for quite a bit.

"Sorry I took so long; I had to walk a little bit to the gate and then when I got in I had to walk--" He cuts me off by kissing me, having one hand on my chin to hold my head in place, and the other one pressed around my waist. He pulls away after a second. "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed it. And seeing you up close, I can definitely tell that there is something wrong. C'mon, let's get inside. I can make tea if you want that." He rambles on, leading me inside and letting me sit down on my own. He rummages around in the kitchen.

"That's okay, I don't need the tea."

"Well, do you need or want anything else?" He sticks his head out from the kitchen doorway.

I stay silent and just stare at him, motioning him over with head. "I'm okay, Harry, really. I don't need these special things. We can just sit here and talk if that's the fastest way to get it over with."

"I'm sorry." He comes over and sits next to me. We don't stay in that position for long, as he pulls me into his lap so my shins are pressed against the back cushions of the couch and I'm straddling his waist. "You just seemed really sad on the phone, and you look to be in even more of a state than how you sounded."

"Wow, how nice of you. My self confidence just boosted by negative 13 percent."

"Why 13 percent exactly?" His nose grazes my jaw as he begins to kiss my neck.

"Thirteen is an odd number and is always given shit for being a 'bad' number, when really, I think it's pretty cool. I mean, it's the first age when you're actually considered a teen. It's just fun to say as well."

"I'm taking it 13 is your favourite number?"

"Now, I never said that. And really, how to people honestly have a favourite number? Out of the never-ending numbers that most of us don't even know how to count to, how is it possible for someone to just chose a number and it's considered their favourite? How does that work? And it's never big numbers. It's always little numbers like 3 or 7 or 11. Never a big number like 1,430,748. That would be a pretty unique number to have as your favourite." I know I'm off track from what I came here to talk about, but I'm better at getting distracted and rambling on about nonsense than I am at talking seriously about the fact that I will be forced to move back to Ireland.

I can't stop the tears from forming in my eyes. I've been holding them in for this long, I guess I can let them out when someone I trust is here to calm me down.

"Hey hey hey, what's wrong?" Harry worries, pulling my face into his chest so I can cry into him.

This continues on for about five minutes; with Harry shushing me and asking what's wrong after I've seemed to calm down enough, which results in a complete repeat of the cycle over again.

"Do you want tea? Coffee? Anything that can help you feel better." He offers, still holding me close and rocking from left to right.

"Either one, I don't care which."

"Alright, I'll be right back."

It takes him a few minutes to return with two mugs of tea, a carton of milk, and a pot of what I'm presuming to be sugar. Since then, I have managed to calm myself down to a quick sniffle and dry eyes.

"I keep forgetting how you like your tea, I'm sorry."

"It's alright." I tell him before taking my own tea in my hands, letting the warmth that has gathered in the mug soak up into my cold hands. He places the sugar and milk down on the table and then sits back down next to me, taking a sip of his own drink.

I set my tea down and prepare it with a small bit of milk and a small bit of sugar, mixing it around with the spoon Harry must have also brought out.

We sit in silence for a while, just drinking our tea and staring off into space. I try to gather my thoughts, and I'm guessing he understands that since he doesn't interrupt the quiet.

The silence may be peaceful, but the room is nothing but with all the tension that I can feel weighing down on my shoulders. It's like when my dad was trying to push open my front door against me, only I don't know which I wished to keep out more.

I take one final sip of my tea before setting it down onto the table in front of me, next to the milk that I'm pretty sure should be placed back into the refrigerator by now.

"Alright. I'll talk." He also sets his tea down, although I don't actually know if he had any left since we were sitting in silence for so long and he spent most of that time with his mug tilted upwards to his mouth. I know that should be the least of my problems right now.

"I won't interrupt you." He whispers, cracking a small smile to ease the tension that he must be feeling right now too.

"Okay, well, to start off, tomorrow will be my last day on the show." I had expected him to yell out to me in a confused frenzy, wondering why I would decide to quit so late in the season. "It wasn't my doing, though. I was fired, and my parents are going to take me back to Ireland to live with them until I get back on my feet."

He makes a motion if he could speak. I nod. "Why were you fired in the first place? You hadn't done anything wrong."

I don't want to tell him that I've lost my job because of him, because I don't even believe that myself. I don't know how, but I know it has something to do with my parents. If my boss would have told my parents that my job was being terminated before he told me, I know that they must have contributed in a big way.

But, if I were to tell him that I was fired because my parents wanted my back home, he would just get confused because I always talk about my parents in a negative way.

"I don't know. It was probably for a bunch of reasons, they just sugar-coated it."

"Do you have to go back home, though? I mean, I could support you..."

"I don't want you to have to do that. My parents offered, and I guess I do kind of miss home. I haven't left America since I've arrived all those years ago."

"Yeah, that makes sense." It's quiet for another minute or two, with me picking my cup of tea back up and finishing the last few sips I have left. "Wait, but what about the end of the season? If we make it through to the finals; then what?"

"You'll probably be paired with another person for the last week."

"They seriously can't let you just finish the season and then you can go?"

"Apparently not."

"They can't just do that!"

"Apparently they can. Such fucking timing, huh?"

"You're telling me."

My eyes had begun to water again just thinking about having to leave so suddenly, not even getting time to reminisce with my friends from the show or have a night just dedicated to appreciating my time there. As Harry said, they couldn't have waited a week more?

The rest of the hour is spent with me beginning to cry, and then fighting back against my own tears. Harry sits in silence and lets me have my own breakdown again and again, feeling that if I were to deal with this, I'm gonna have to learn how to rely on myself to feel better, especially since I am going back to the place where no one seems to know how to be supportive.

I'm not sure how long it was until Harry finally pulled me off the couch and up into the air. My legs wrap around his waist as he begins to move around the room in an odd pattern. My head is resting in his neck the best it can without him having to turn it into an awkward position.

I don't break the silence until I finally pull my face from his neck and looking down at the monotonous pattern his feet are making. "What are you doing?"

"Every dancer deserves their last dance, right?"

I think about it for a moment.

"Let me rephrase that; would you like to enjoy a last dance with me?"

I nod silently, smiling a bit. I feel like it's been way too long since I've smiled genuinely. Sadly, Harry is one of the only things now that keeps me happy.

I release my feet from being locked around his waist, giving him a hint that I would like to be set down. He lets go of me completely when I pull away, looking upset when I head over to the couch and pick up my phone. He must have thought I didn't want to dance with him; that I just wanted to let myself grieve.

I've proven him wrong, though, when I unlock my phone and go through my music list, looking for any piano songs that I have. I finally stop when I reach my favourite piano artist, Ludovico Einaudi. Instead of trying to actually choose a song, I just click shuffle and drop my phone back down on the couch.

I go back over to Harry, holding my hand out. "You may have this dance."

He laughs silently, his shoulders shaking a little bit before saying, "I would be honoured to dance with you."

He pulls me in with a twirl, holding both my hands, my back pressed against his chest. "For a second there, I thought you were proposing that I should be the guy in the relationship." I joke.

"Hm, we can switch." He rocks us back and forth. We form a strange dance due to the altering beat of the song.

"Do you know what this song is called?" He whispers in my ear.

"Nuvole bianche." I say the best I can, twirling around when he lifts his arm up.

"What does that mean?"

"White clouds in Italian."

We try to go along well with the music, but it keeps dimming down when my phone would go off with text messages. "Who's that?"

"Probably Meghan, trying to tell me that she's sorry."

"Will you accept it?"

"Nope. She dug her own fucking grave with everything she's done. But fuck her; I couldn't care less if I ever saw her again."

"Harsh."

"That's how the world, Harry. I didn't make up the rules to life, I just live by them."

"You live by them in the strangest possible way."

"Now, I didn't say I live by them correctly..."

We both go quiet after that, dancing along to the music completely after I've turned off all Skype and text notifications for the time being.

We continue to slow dance all around his lounge, avoiding the table and chairs the best we can, not stepping on each others feet once. We even slow dance when the song comes to an end, not wanting our time together to come to an end as well.


	23. News

I'm woken up by the feeling of warm, wet kisses to my neck as Harry shakes me from my peaceful slumber. My eyelashes flutter and I groan, trying to push him away so I can sleep for longer.

"Good morning," I feel him smiling as he presses and another kiss to my neck.

"Fuck off." I grumble, rolling away from him. My face is sticky after my tears last night and it makes me annoyed and embarrassed that I allowed myself to be so fragile around anyone. I know Harry has always wanted me to open up to him about myself, but this is another thing that I don't like anyone knowing anyway. Showing tears to someone shows off your vulnerability, something that they could later use to get back at you, or something to make them scared to be themselves around you.

I hate vulnerability.

I know that Harry would never use my personal problems against me, especially since he doesn't know the full story, but it's always been in my mind to not show such weakness. Another stupid moral that my parents taught me. "Big boys don't cry." Even though I don't define as a boy anymore, I guess it just stuck with me.

"What a wonderful ray of sunshine you are in the morning."

"You've known me long enough to know that mornings are my enemy. We have never and will never get along."

"You're also too dramatic in the morning."

I reach my hands up blindly to smack him, but he grabs them to stop me. I blink my eyes open and eye him up; he's hovering over my slightly, whilst still keeping some sort of distance.

See, this is what vulnerability does.

"Are you okay?"

"Have I ever told you how much I hate that question?"

"Why?"

"Because, no matter what you say, people will still think something is wrong. People say the number lie in the world is "I'm fine", which is true, but only because people ask that question in the first place. Don't ask it if you won't believe my answer."

"I'm sorry."

I sigh, sitting up and hugging him. He hugs back, holding me close. "You don't need to apologize, just know that there's no point in even asking if you know the answer already."

"Why do you think people always say "I'm fine" anyway? Why don't they tell the truth?"

"Because no one wants to burden other people with their problems. Even if they are a huge attention whore, telling someone the whole story takes way too long, and it wastes time. And any time that someone was telling the truth anyway, just knowing that you seem to be in a mood at all makes someone overthink everything and try to prove that they're not. Some people also get annoyed by the question and just answer that instead of complaining. I don't know."

It's silent for a little while, just the sound of our breathing can be heard in the room. Harry breaks the silence a few minutes later. "I like hearing how you feel and think about things."

"What?" I laugh slightly.

"You think so deeply about things and include every opinion you have in anything you say, which is really cool because a lot of people don't like telling people what they think of things. You're also straightforward, so if you think something is stupid, you will definitely say what you think."

"It's also called having no filter, you didn't have to sugar coat it." I reply. He shakes his head, getting up from the bed, which causes me to flop down on the bad again.

"Come on, grumpy-butt, let's get some food in you."

I follow on behind him. He leads me into the kitchen and allows me to lift up onto the counter.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't care. Make whatever you want."

"Alright, I'll be sure to make something that you will absolutely hate."

"Funny, since the reason we came down here was to get me to eat so I'd stop being grumpy, and you would just make me more grumpy by feeding me shit food. But hey, it's your call."

"Sometimes, the fact that you think a lot is a beautiful contribution to society, and sometimes, it just makes me want to smother you with a pillow."

"Harry, do I need to take you to a counselor, because that sounds pretty serious."

"What I need is for you to stop being sassy."

"You might as well take the counseling, because the second option is never going to happen." I smile as I jump off the counter and walk into the lounge. "I swear, Harry, if you add anything disgusting to my food, I will end you!"

"And you say I need a counselor." I hear him mutter.

_-_-_

After breakfast, Harry leads me back into his bedroom. We both sit down on his bed and just enjoy the silence. I can tell he wants to say something, but I don't know if he can.

"Do you think we should go into the studio today?" I ask.

"I know we should, but I really don't want to, knowing that I will be told who my new dancer is."

"I'm sure you'll like whoever it is." I tell him, trying to think of some of dancers that he wouldn't like. He gets along with people pretty well, so it's not him I'd be worried about.

"Honestly, I hope we get eliminated tonight so I won't have to dance with anyone else."

"Why?"

"I dunno, I guess I've just never felt a connection with someone like this before, and I don't want it to be tainted by another person coming in. I know it's stupid, especially since you are unable to feel the same."

"Well, I hope you can stay and finish off the season. I'd love to see you lift that mirror-ball trophy the way you do at any award show."

"It wouldn't be the same without you there," He sighs. "You wanna know what sucks the most?"

"What?"

"I was told there's a 'reminiscing' dance that you do on the last night, meaning it's a dance we've already danced together. If I make it through, I'd be doing it with someone else. Not very reminiscent if you ask me."

"Yeah, there is. If I were to stay, which dance would you want to do?"

He doesn't even hesitate before he answers, "Our contemporary, definitely. It's kinda how everything started between us."

I smile. "That was my favourite dance this season."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to dance that with anyone other than you. If I make it through, I don't want to do that one."

"You should do it, though. I mean, if it's the most memorable for you, even if I won't be there, you should do it."

He goes quiet, just looking up at the ceiling. "Maybe."

We stay silent after that, just staring at the ceiling and basking in each other's warmth. He holds me in his arms with my back pressed to his chest.

Our silence is interrupted yet again, not but one of us saying anything, but instead the harsh buzzing coming from my phone against his nightstand. I roll off of him to check who it is, hoping it's not someone like Meghan texting me another apology and ruining the peace.

Thankfully, it's not Meghan, or anyone of that matter, but instead my manager, or well, my previous manager.

The call only lasts for a few seconds, with him telling me that I am required to come down to the studio before the show. I have an idea as to why, but I don't even want to think of it.

I turn back around and Harry is already looking at me sadly. "Come on, we've gotta go."

He sighs quietly, pulling me down to lay on him once again, but instead of keeping me there in a spooning position, my chest is pressed to his as he hugs me to him, presses us as close as he possibly can. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

We share a kiss as a way of ending the conversation, and in my opinion, it's the best kiss we've had yet.

_-_-_

The first thing I'm greeted with when I walk in through the studio doors is a sudden spray of water against my face. Louis laughs and steps out from behind whatever he hid behind.

"Haven't seen you hang around here in a while. Too far up each other's asses to spare some time for friends?" Louis teases, lowering his little water gun. he comes up to me first and puts a hand on my shoulder, laughing at the water that's dribbling off my chin. I push him away with a roll of my eyes, lifting the hem of my shirt up to wipe off the water.

"Immature asshat," I mutter, taking his water gun and spraying him three times with it.

"Whoa, calm down there, it was just a joke." He holds his hands up in surrender. I thrust the top back at him, waiting for him to take it back. He wipes water off his own face, eyeing us both up. "Why the long faces?"

"I'm pretty sure you'll know in a few minutes." I mutter. He follows in step with me on my right side, as Harry is standing to my left. My theory proves to be correct when my manager catches sight of my and immediately makes a call over the PDA system asking everyone to come backstage.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to arrive. Harry is already holding me close, whispering sweet things to me. I'm not sure if that's what makes me cry, or the fact that my manager is making this such a big deal around here. He doesn't need to round everyone together, and he sure as hell doesn't need to announce it while I'm here.

"I'm sorry to report, but your fellow dancer, Nicolette Horan, will be leaving the show tonight, and will not finish the season with her current partner, Harry Styles." He starts.

Everyone begins to ask why I'm leaving so suddenly, both dancers and the remaining Stars.

What he said next is not at all what I expected him to say, and it actually makes me a bit mad since he reveals such personal information so nonchalantly. Everyone doesn't need to know why I'm leaving, even if I don't believe it's not entirely true. "Nicolette has lost her privilege to work as a dancer here because of her relationship with Harry Styles, which is a violation against her contract. We've gone over all the details and we've dropped her from her contract without legal consequences, but in replacement, she must leave her position here."

Harry and Louis both look at me with different expressions; Harry's consisting of guilt and sadness, and Louis consisting of guilt as well, and also anger.

"What? Are you serious?" Louis asks, trying to keep his cool. I grab onto his arm as an attempt to hold him back from getting in our manager's face. I don't want him to lose his job as well.

"Mr. Tomlinson, this does not require your comments, nor does it affect you. As upset as we all are, Ms. Horan knew very well the requirements of her contract when she first signed, and she willing went against it, knowing the consequences that would come out of it. Trust me, it could be a lot worse than this."

"Firing someone because they're in love? What kind of bullshit is that?" Louis continues to rage, trying to pull out of my strong grip onto his arm.

"Louis, you should know better than anyone what it's like to violate your contract, since you've broken this same rule once before. Luckily we were able to catch your relationship before it got to far, whereas Nicolette's relationship with Harry has already been publicly discovered and televised before we could contain it. I'm sorry."

 

That's news to me. Louis violated his contract in the same way?

Learning this information only furthers my belief that my parents are the reason for my firing instead of just this relationship. Yes, there was a clause in my contract saying that I couldn't have a relationship with any of the Stars, but since Louis was caught and he is still here, there must be something bigger contributing to my consequence.

"You don't need to fire her!"

"We do, actually, unless you would rather them be forced apart. We will not do anything to affect their relationship, as there is nothing we can do to keep them apart. We would be completely fine with them staying together without any consequences, but the contract clearly states that you cannot have an unprofessional relationship with any of the celebrities, and vice versa. And since Nicolette agreed to this, we are forced to but an end to one of two things; the relationship, or the job position."

Louis is rendered silent again when I pull him back to me and shake my head. "I don't want you to lose your job too. I'll be okay."

Only I won't, though, because I won't be here. I'll be forced away from my home of seven years, my friends I've found, and the only people in my life who have fought for me to stay.


	24. Departure

Throughout the rest of the night, it seems, I can't get a nice moment to reflect alone, as so many dancers and Stars are constantly coming up to me, congratulating me on making it this far, and wishing me luck for my trip home. I don't need luck, I need something to save me from having to go.

Tom and Erin have yet to announce my departure, if they even will tonight, even though Harry and I were already announced safe for next week.

Afterwards, Harry and I were left to roam. I go off on my own with headphones over my head on nearly full blast. Nuclear by Mike Oldfield plays while I dawdle about in the corridors and numerous practice rooms. I'm not sure if Harry is still following me or not.

Towards the end of the show, I presume, my question is answered when Harry taps on my shoulder, pulling me out of my trance. I look up, and the room is brighter than I remember it being, and Harry's body just blends in with it, making me think he's like an angel, it a ghost, ready to which me away, holding me captive so I don't have to leave. I'm not sure if I would object or not.

"Nic, they're calling us to the stage." He pulls me by my arm when he realizes I'm not going to willingly follow him. "C'mon, darling."

"Whatever it is can't be that important." My voice seems low, airy, like it hasn't had time to warm up for public use. I don't care anymore.

Harry's grip isn't tight, so I slip my arm awry from his grasp, drawing back into the music that never seems to be loud enough.

Because music wasn't made to block out thoughts, only the real world. Both are unbarable to deal with.

"Love, please. It's about you. They've just announced who was eliminated."

I don't want to go, I don't want to hear the story, albeit false, once again. How long must I lie before I gain the courage to tell the truth?

Either way, I follow behind him, his hand grabbing mine just to make sure I don't run away. Maybe for moral support too.

"Do you know who was eliminated?" I don't care that my voice broke in the middle of my sentence.

"Lorde and Derek. Is it bad to say I wish it was us?"

A few hours ago, I would have said yes, but now? I'm not sure. Everything seems so real now. After the show ends its over. My departure is inevitable.

I don't reply. I want him to stay optimistic about this season. I want him to drive to win, or at least keep going after I've left. I know he can.

We arrive at the side of the stage. I catch eye contact with Louis across the way. He looks annoyed, but an underlying emotion is also present in his demeanor. 

I'm not sure how long we were out on stage. Harry kept his hand around my waist as Tom quickly explained to the camera and the audience whatever story he was told. I'm not sure if he went into full detail, or if he even explained why I'm leaving at all. My ears refuse to listen.

_-_-_

Some of the dancers and even some Stars invited me out tonight. Maybe it's to just spend some time together before I go, or maybe it's a celebration that I'm finally returning to Ireland. I don't understand why anyone would want to celebrate with me over that, but I keep reminding myself that they don't know I left on bad terms with everyone.

I decline all their offers in the nicest way possible. I'm not trying to be rude, but it's a bit hard when all the these people who didn't care much about me before, suddenly think they can step up to the plate right as I'm about to leave. Sadly, that's how people generally works. Nobody notices you until you're gone, or just about to be.

Harry doesn't want to leave, but he, too, is included in that group of people I wish to splay away from. I love having him around, and I know he feels hurt that I've left him backstage on his own, but I really just want to be alone, allowing me to reminisce in peace.

I've stopped listening to music, because it seems to slowly take it's toll on me. The wrong song could come on and I could lose it. Tears aren't allowed. I also prefer to dwell in silence.

I'm not sure where Louis' gone. Demi left right after the show, but not after wishing me luck and telling me I'd find a new job in no time. I haven't seen Louis since I caught eye contact with him right before I went out on the stage, which I didn't realize at the time, but it was my last time to ever be on that stage with a live audience and a camera rolling.

I'm walking aimlessly backstage, completely ignoring anyone that tries to talk to me. Harry is sitting by the door, probably waiting until I've finished my narcissistic mourning.

The cables above me shake, emitting an echo. I'm not sure how I noticed, considering I was lost in my own head, but the abandoned cat walk shakes slightly and I see short legs dangling off the side, curling around the bottom of the suspended equipment to keep some balance.

This sparks my interest. I can tell by the hands that are shaking about the bar that it's Louis, but what is he doing up there? The last time that he was up there, that I know of, is when he tired to find me at the beginning of the season.

I look over at the ladder that leads directly to that specific elevation. I don't know what pushed me to go up there; I don't know if it's because I really do need someone to talk to, or maybe it's because I know he needs someone to talk to. Whatever the force being, it drove me to climb up that ladder steadily and join Louis.

Neither of us say anything when I curl up next to him, my legs pulled to my chest and my arms wrapped around them loosely. We both seem to be lost in our own heads.

I'm not sure how long I sat up there with him before I speak. "I'm going to miss you." my voice is hoarse, just like it was when I talked to Harry last.

He's still quiet, but leans into me a little, resting his head on my shoulder. He's looking up at the ceiling, his eyes following the cables which lead to nearly every part of the studio.

"I wish I didn't have to go."

He closes his eyes, "Then don't."

"I have to."

"No, you don't. You can stay here; try to get another job." He mumbles.

"Even if I wanted to stay here, Louis, I can't. I've already lost my home. My parents are taking me back to Ireland tomorrow. And I wouldn't want another job, you know that. I didn't give it up willingly; it was torn from my grasp."

"You know, I'm really starting to hate your parents."

"Yeah, that's understandable. Who thought that the reason a came here would also be the reason I went back?"

He's silent for another few seconds. "Please, Nic. Promise you'll at least come visit me."

"I'll come visit you, Louis."

"Promise?"

I think back to a few months ago when Louis promised me that no one found out anything after Meghan came to the studio. That seems like so long ago. "Esimorp."

He smiles as me, laughing slightly.

It might not fix my problem, but at least it made the weight lift from my shoulders, if only for a second.

_-_-_

The night goes by too fast. It seems like no time passed when my phone vibrates harshly. I had fallen asleep before I was able to plug it in, and it's just resting next to my head. The sound scares me into consciousness, making me jolt from Harry's arms. He groans, trying to pull my back in.

"Don't leave." He mutters against my back.

I sigh, pulling myself from his grasp, my legs going off the side of the bed one at a time. "I have to." Grudgingly, I pull myself from the burrowed warmth of the bed, my feet touching the chilly rug of Harry's bedroom.

Harry sighs as well, kicking the comforter and sheet off him, failing a few times before he's finally able to get the cloth away. He then sprawls out on the bed in a starfish position, throwing his head farther back into the pillow, scrunching the pillow up against the headboard.

Neither of us dare to speak as I collect my small suitcase that I've stuffed into his closet, trying to hide away the future. Sadly, this future is inevitable, and avoiding it can only do so much.

I don't have many belongings, I've realized. I thought I had a lot more than what all I could fit in my suitcase, but, in all actuality, nearly everything I've owned wasn't even fully mine. My suitcase contains mostly clothes, save for a few necessities and personal items.

As the wheels drag across the rug, my eyes remain on the carpet, even when Harry comes up behind me and hugs me.

We stay mostly silent during the car ride to the airport. I feel bad that Harry was given the job to take me to the one place I have left to say goodbye, but he offered, and there's no way I could tell him no.

It's not that I'm scared we'll be seen, or that things will get sappy really quickly, or even that Harry will meet my parents.

No, I'm more terrified of what my parents will say to Harry. I know that I can't keep the secret hidden from Harry forever, but on the last day we have together, that we know of, I don't want it to end on such a metaphorically bad foot.

Much like the night was, the drive to the airport went by way too fast. Before I know it, we're being rushed to the waiting area, where my parents spot me just before we are able to sit down and become hidden by everyone else.

"Ni!" Meghan calls me, using my nickname, I hope for the sake of Harry.

I turn around, and Harry immediately knows what I planned on doing, when he leans down just enough so our lips meet in one of the most passionate kisses we've ever shared. It's slow, sweet, and all around, in my opinion, we've ever had together. Honestly, the best kiss I've ever received, but I'm not sure where Harry stands with that.

The kiss is quite long, and I'm guessing Meghan held my parents back from interrupting us. Instead of their annoying shouts of my birth-given name, it's the sound of camera flashes coming from somewhere. Harry pulls away to look around, as do I. I'm not sure how many people there are, and thankfully they haven't swarmed us. We still make our way over to the gate I'm supposed to enter in order to get on the plane. We did arrive pretty late, so they should be calling us very soon.

It turns out I'm right, when the screen changes our flight number to 'boarding'. I have a few more minutes before I have to leave Harry, though, and I plan to use every last one of them.

"I'll be watching you on the show in the last week. I don't know if it's available in Ireland, but I'll find a way."

"It won't be the same without you." He looks so heartbroken, but I have to be strong.

My parents and Meghan come over to join us at the gate. My parents motion into the corridor, but Meghan holds them back from saying anything. I'll have to remember to thank her later.

"Did you find out who your new partner is?" It's just small talk, but I don't want to say goodbye. Not yet.

"They told me it was some girl named Lindsay Arnold. I don't remember her name from anywhere in the season, though."

"She danced with someone, but I can't remember who. You'll like her, I promise." They call for our flight once again, and by now, there aren't many people left rushing through the gate anymore. Only a few people entering who missed the call the first time. Only a couple minutes left.

"You'll always be my favourite person to dance with." He actually genuinely smiles, causing me to smile as well, only, tears accompany my grin.

I can't hold them back anymore. I've been doing that for way too long.

Harry pulls me into his arms, kissing my forehead lightly. "I'll come visit you as soon as I can."

I don't reply with words. Instead, I just nod, sniffling so any nose drippings don't fall onto his shirt. I'm going to miss this place so much. All my friends so much. Miss him so much.

My mother must have gotten impatient, when she interrupts our moment. "C'mon, Niall."

I cringe, pulling away from Harry. I whip around to glare at my mother, but I'm stopped mid-turn as Harry's voice stops me. "Who's Niall?"

Shit.

Shit.

No. Shit, please no.

I'm saved from the awkward answer when an overhead voice says that's it's the last call for our flight to board the plane. My mother and father pull me by the shoulder. I catch eye contact with Meghan, who also seems frantic that my mother called that out, so carelessly. 

I look at Harry once more, him looking straight into my eyes. I lean forward one last time and kiss him with as much passion as I could muster, while still being rushed and frantic.

"I'll miss you." I whisper, and my parents are finally able to pull me away from Harry.

"Wait, darling, who's Niall?"

There's no time to answer, as I'm already being forced down to corridor. I'm scared to turn around and face him, not like I'm even given the chance to be able to. The grip my parents have on my shoulders are tight and unforgiving.

"Who's Niall?!" Is the last I hear from Harry, before it goes completely silent again.

Save for the sound of our footsteps down the corridor, leading me back to the one place I wish I'd never have to go again.


	25. Uncomfortable

By the time I was able to watch the show for the last week, Harry has already been eliminated. I feel bad, but I know that's what he was hoping would happen since he didn't plan on dancing with anyone else. I didn't catch which dance they did, or what score that got. I just wish he hadn't have given up. I was really hoping he would make it to the end and win.

Luckily, Zayn didn't win, which I know would make Harry happy. He came in second place, and Louis & Demi came in first place. I'll have to call up Louis tell congratulate him and Demi for doing so well.

I've only been back home for a week, and I already hate it. My parents haven't changed much around the house, and my room looks exactly the same as it did when I left. All of the clothes in my closet are too small to fit me, but my mother told me that we would be going shopping after church on Sunday. Until then, I have to wear a lot of Greg's old clothes.

It's currently 3 A.M. on Wednesday, the first day since the show ended. My parents are sleeping in their room, while I'm just scrolling through my computer. I kinda want to start a new Netflix series, just so I have a reason to stay in my room more. I spend most of my time alone anyway, but at least I can avoid going downstairs as much as I can and prolong my sit-ins.

Ever since I've arrived, I haven't really known what to do. Ireland has much less to do compared to California. It's easy to notice that I've been gone for a bit, because everyone's accents are pretty thick compared to mine. It's even harder to fit in now than it was 7 years ago when I was realizing everything about myself.

I've stayed up all night until I can hear my get up to make herself coffee. To avoid them even more, I usually end up sleeping while they're awake, which is exactly what I plan on doing right now.

_-_-_

"Niall, wake up, please." My father rips the covers off my body, letting the cool air into my cocoon. The weather is pretty cold now, so it's understandable, and my parents barely notice the cold as much as I do.

"What?" I rub my eyes and turn over, facing away from him.

"We were planning on going out for lunch, and we want you to come." My eyes open slightly, hoping that I remembered to close my curtains last night so the light outside doesn't seep in.

I groan and reach for my covers. "I just fell asleep."

He pulls them farther away from me. "Your mum came in here at 5 and told me that you were sleeping already. If that's when you just fell asleep, then you've had plenty of sleep by now. C'mon, Ni, it's nearly 2 P.M."

Fine." I know that he's not gonna go away, so I might as well agree.

"Thank you." He leaves my room, cracking the door to give me some privacy to get ready. At least they respect that part of me.

I know that if I wear something too 'girly', they'll make me change. Instead, I go for a gender-neutral outfit, consisting of a light grey jumper, black jeans, and some Vans. Not my best outfit, but it'll do.

"Niall, something came in the mail for you." My mother calls to me when I've reached the last three steps.

I know already that it's probably just the studio sending me my last paycheck for working this season. I know it won't be enough to be able to find a place on my own, especially since I don't have any other source of income now, but it's a start. Thankfully, I got a college diploma when I went to University in America, so that gives me some opportunity for finding something here.

I don't open the mail; instead, I just take it and run it up to my room to be opened later.

We leave shortly after that. The restaurant we go into isn't familiar to me, so it must have been built recently. My parents prove my theory when they tell me that it was built tow years after I left, and it became their favourite place to go when they didn't feel like cooking. I'm not sure how often that is, but it must be pretty often, because the waitress we have knows both my parents by their first and last names.

It's strange to see my parents nonchalantly going out to eat; when I was young, my mother usually always had a plan for meals, whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner. We rarely went out to eat for anything, except for birthdays, where we would go to some expensive restaurant that I can't remember the name of.

It's awkward for me when we order, because, not only do I not know the menu or even recognize some of the things on the menu, my parents are very talkative with the waitress. They're cracking jokes and making each other laugh like it's some kind of tradition. And then there's me, mumbling what it is that I want in a quiet voice and my eyes still glued on the menu.

"Maura, you never told me you had a daughter! I thought it was only Greg and Niall?"

I look up at my parents; they're looking at me with small smiles. "That is Niall, Shay. He's finally returned!"

"Oh, this is him? I finally get to meet him after so long!" I glance up at the woman. I don't recognize this woman, so it's obviously not an old friend that they had even before I left. "Alrighty, well, I will return soon with your meals."

Shay walks off, her notepad still in hand as she leaves. I finally lift my head and look around the diner. A few people have looked over from their own tables at us, but they turn back when my eyes glance over them.

"You talk about me that much?" I asked them.

"We don't talk about you all the time. We just told her about you and Greg, and how you've both grown up and left to find jobs and whatnot. She asked where you two went, but, at the time, we didn't know where you were, so we told her that we didn't know where you went." My mother speaks.

I stay silent, just waiting for our food to arrive. But, they have different plans.

"Niall, what do you plan on doing now that you're back? We could enroll you at a University if you need to get your diploma still--"

"I've already got my diploma."

"Oh? Since when?"

"That was the first thing I did when I went to America, was finish all my schooling. I don't have any actual degrees, but I got a college diploma."

"Oh, well that's lovely. I guess you can just stay home now."

Actually, I was planning on getting some sort of job while I could. Maybe next week, I could go job hunting."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. You've been away for seven years, Niall, just stay for a little while. But, maybe, you could join some sports teams? You were pretty good at football back then."

"I haven't touched a football since I was 14. And plus, I'm not interested in football. I want to dance. Maybe something has some kind of dance program--"

"Niall," My dad cuts me off.

"Sweetie, dancing is for girls. You can't do that."

"If you haven't realized by now, I am a girl. And also, have you ever even watched the show once? There's plenty of male dancers. It's not girly, it's just something fun that anyone can enjoy doing."

"You're not a girl, Niall, and you never will be."

This constant fight with my parents is getting so repetitive. I'm sick of those words, I'm sick of that name, I'm sick of them.

But I know that there is no way for me to fight back, because, to them, I'm still their innocent little boy, the one who does everything they say.

I'm tired of fighting with them.

I'm just tired.

_-_-_

We return home an hour later, and I take a tow hour long nap to make up for the time I didn't get to sleep earlier.

When I wake up, I have message from Harry telling me that he misses me. I reply back with a message telling him the same, and saying that I saw the show and I wish he had made it through. He sent a message back telling me that he was kind of happy that he didn't win, but he's glad that Demi and Louis did. While I'm already on the phone, I decide to message Louis to tell him congratulations, and to tell Demi I said congrats as well.

I sit around in my room for a few more hours, finding menial things to do, such as cleaning out my wardrobe for new clothes and reminiscing when I go through half of them. I still have the little suit that my mother made me wear to church when I was nine or ten. I have the dresses I got for myself shoved to the back of my closet, all wrinkled and squished into the wall, back when I was still in hiding. Some old shoe boxes have a bunch of small toys that I used to have, a lot of plastic knives and toy cars mixed in with pieces of doll house furniture and small pet figurines that Meghan sometimes left here, or that I would purposely take and play with without being called weird.

It's weird to go back and see how back and forth I was even before I realized anything about myself. I have old nail-polish, make-up, dolls, stuffed puppies and pony figurines, but I also have old toy cars, weapons, plastic transformers and monster trucks. Doll hair brushes and dresses, but no girl dolls to put the dress on or any hair to brush. The strangest thing that I found, though, was a plastic male doll, probably one that Meghan usually had me play as, but with a bushy, tight dress placed over him. There's no clothes underneath, so I didn't do this on purpose as a way that he was disguising, no. I deliberately had done this, seeing as their are some stretched seams in some places of the dress where I had trouble getting the clothes on.

Even when I was young, I didn't have these set gender rolls or rules. I thought it was okay and accepted for a man to wear a dress, or at least, doll versions of men.

_-_-_

I've been home for over two weeks now. Greg has come to visit me a few times, and I showed him the old toys I had. He told me of a time, that I'm guessing I couldn't remember, when he came in behind me when I was playing, and I was speaking aloud, but I was doing a girly voice. I was alone, and I was holding some girl doll figures and playing with the little amount of doll things I had. And then he told me that he came in hours later to tell me dinner was ready, but I was playing with different toys. The dolls were away, and I had a lot of monster trucks and little army men standing on little cars, and I was doing a manly voice and explosion sounds. It was like my interest in each gender completely flipped in those few short hours.

When Greg left that day, it got me thinking about all the times over the years that my wanting to be something changes. It was like the time I called Greg so randomly, crying and begging for him to come see me, to tell me everything was okay, because I was confused. I thought it was just because I missed him, but no, I was confused about myself. I didn't want to wear dresses that day. I didn't want to have long hair that I could braid, I didn't want to wear make-up or put on nice clothes. No, I wanted to sit in, watch some violent or scary movies, play loud and obnoxious video games that would annoy my neighbours, yell at the tv screen when I was watching a football match. I wanted my hair to get out of my face and just fuck off for a while so I didn't have to worry about it.

Ever since Greg told me that story, I've been confused. I don't know what I feel. I would get sudden feelings of doing stereotypical gender-specific things. And yes, I know that every gender can do whatever they want, it's their own personal feelings and personality. But to me, for the past seven years, there hasn't been a change. Everything I did was specifically something that a girl would be known to do. Stereotypically girly things, that's all I knew. But I would get those feelings; that sudden snap where I didn't want to do things like that. I wanted to be stereotypically masculine. Do boyish things that would seem strange for a girl to do. Not meaning that a girl couldn't do it, but to society, it's strange to see a girl do it.

Gender-norms are a weird thing, but they're what make me so confused.

On Friday, a few days after Greg was over, I decided to make a rash decision. I didn't feel like a girl that day. I didn't feel the fight with my parents was worth it, and I just felt like a boy. 

I went to a barber's shop that day and got my hair cut. I haven't cut my hair in years - except the ends because they were dead - but, that day, I didn't care.

I got my hair dyed blonde, because I'm so tired of looking at the same old brown.

Fuck it all, I said.

Now, it's too short to put it up. All I can do it let it lay flat, or quiff it if I had the materials to do so.

But fuck it. I don't care.

I don't feel like I girl today, no, I feel like a boy.


	26. Truth

My stomach was churning as the hair dresser started to cut my hair. I didn't give them an exact length as to what I wanted them to cut it, which I'm sure caused some confusion among them. I'm in the hands of them now, and I'm hoping they turn it into something that I will hate.

When they make the first cut, I nearly jerk away from the sight in my peripherals. A long section of my hair drops to the floor, and it seems almost as if they cut it off all the way up to the top of my ear.

The rest of the time in that chair was spent with me trying to catch any glimpse into the mirror to try and see myself. I'm so terrified that I'm going to completely regret this. I already regret doing it, but having a hair style that's even worse than I was expecting would completely ruin me. It took me so long to grow my hair out as long as it was, to a length that I was happy with but was also something that I could control.

When I was finally given a chance to look into the mirror, it was almost as if I was looking at my young self, looking in the mirror after I just re-dyed my hair blonde, and my brother is telling me that I would be a very pretty girl. That memory means so much to me. It's almost as if Greg knew there was something about me, as if he realized who I was before I even considered it. He put the idea in my head, and it's just spiraled from there.

It took me about an hour to walk home. The barber shop wasn't too far from my parents' house, but I decided to take my time on the way home. Many people had walked by me on the sidewalk. Some of them greeted me when I would glance at them, some of them would smile, and some of them would just walk by. I kept my head slightly tilted down; there didn't seem to be a reason as to why. I know that no one in this town probably remembers me, and, if they do, they'd be seeing the me that they all thought I was, and probably still expect me to be.

I finally did return home just as it was getting dark, meaning that my parents probably already have supper cooked and possibly already on the table. If there's one thing I remember from when I was younger, it was that my mother always had supper ready by 5 or 6, just in time for when my father would return home from work. We ate pretty early, and were expected to go to bed pretty early as well. As I'm thinking about it, I can't help but notice that I never really did experience what it was like to not have a "bed time" until after I left. My parents were pretty strict when it came to the night, even when Greg and I were teenagers. If my memory is correct, I'm pretty sure Greg wasn't granted an actual curfew until he was 15 or 16. By the time I was that age, I had already made a plan to leave Ireland to get away from my unaccepting parents. A bed-time was the least of my worries.

"Niall, you've returned! It's a bit late, where have you--" My mother cuts herself off when she sees me standing just past the threshold. Her eyes are locked just above my eyebrows, obviously gawking at my new hair cut. The hair dresser had put it up into a flimsy quiff, something that definitely would have down into a fringe if I ran my fingers through it. "Oh."

I stay silent for a moment, removing my shoes at the door and hanging my hoodie over my arm. "I'm not too hungry, so I don't think I will be eating with you guys, if you haven't already. I'll be down later to make myself a plate."

She glances back down and catches eye contact with me, a smile forming on her lips. "Don't worry, dear, we have already made a plate up for you. We were expecting you home earlier, but I now understand why you didn't return sooner." My mother comes closer and reaches up towards my hair, trying to touch it. I'm a considerable bit taller than she is, but not enough to where I'd have to alter my position for her to reach my head. When her fingers finally do comb through my hair - destroying the quiff and causing most of my hair to fall down just above my eyes - it feels strange. I haven't felt someone touch my head like this since before I left. Whenever Harry messed with my hair, he would comb from the back of my head and down to the ends. Now, since my hair doesn't even cover my neck anymore, someone has to touch the very top of my head to mess with it. It doesn't matter now, I can't go back and change what I've done.

My mother smiles once more, and I try to return her joy, but I can't. My stomach still feels weird, and I don't understand why. The part I were nervous about is over; why is my body still refusing this change?

"You look good, Niall. You look like my little boy again." It's at that moment that my father decides to join us near the front door. He looks just as pleased when he sees my hair as my mother was.

They're both smiling at me with so much happiness, proud to have their "little boy" back again. Why didn't that comment annoy me like it usually would? Why didn't I correct them?

I went up to my room after this strange encounter. They watched my back as I left, and I didn't like how I could notice that my old hair wasn't running against the back of my neck. There wasn't that weight anymore that I never knew I could miss.

_-_-_

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, or for how long I've been asleep. My bedding has been pulled down so I must have deliberately got in, but I don't remember doing so. Someone is running their fingers through my hair, and their weight against my bed proves that they must be sitting.

I roll over and look at the figure. It's too bright for my eyes to focus, so I can't figure out who it is yet. Their hair is longer to be my father, but their body is too large to be my mother.

"Greg?" My voice is hoarse.

"Nope, guess again." Harry answers. I sit up quickly, his hand falling from my head and landing lifelessly on my comforter.

"Harry? How did you get here?" I ask while I'm hugging him. He's hugging me as well, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

"I called your brother, Greg, and asked him where you lived. Sorry I didn't tell you."

I shrug, "It's fine, I'm just glad you're here."

We both go silent for a minute. He's busy looking around my room, while I pick at my fingernails. He's the one who speaks up again first. "So, your mum told me that 'Niall' was sleeping in 'his' room. Are you... Niall?"

And there it is. I knew my parents wouldn't be able to hold back from blurting out my original name. I nod.

"Are you, ya know... still Niall?"

I shrug.

"That doesn't answer my question."

I look up at him, right into his eyes, and say, "I don't know."

He recoils a bit, "I'm sorry." I pay back down into the bed, turning to face the other way. The light from the window is too bright on my tired eyes. "So," I feel his hand on my head again, playing with my hair a bit. "when did you do this?"

I close my eyes for a second, just enjoying the feeling of his hands running through my hair again. It still feels weird, but I can tell the difference between my mother messing with it and Harry. He's only curious, and not overjoyed like my mother was.

"You don't have to answer. I was just interested because, well, I've always seen you with long hair, and it was a bit strange to come in here and see you with, uhm, you know." He rambles on a bit. I roll onto my back and look at him with a goofy smile. He grins a little, still running his fingers through my hair.

"Lay down with me." I request. He takes a moment to remove his boots and socks before scooting a bit closer to me. He asks me with his eyes if he can take his jeans off. I nod. "You shouldn't have to ask." Which is true. I don't want him to be nervous around me. We're still together, and it's not like I'm a different person just because my name and hair are different.

That's one thing I never seemed to be able to get people to understand. I'm not different from how I was just because I consider myself a different gender. I'm still the same person they grew used to, and nothing is going to change that.

He gets under the covers with me and hugs me from behind, so we're both facing the wall instead of the window. "I can't really give you a reason as to why I cut my hair. I only did it yesterday, and thankfully it didn't turn out as bad as I was expecting."

"Why were you expecting it to be bad?"

"I don't know. It was a rash decision to do it, and, I guess, I was just expecting the worst after they made the first cut. To see that much hair drop down to the floor like that, and know that it was my hair; it just kind of scared me a bit."

"Well, I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, I wasn't expecting it, and it's definitely going to take some getting used to, since all I've seen prior to this was your long hair, but, yeah."

We both stay quiet for a little while. I wasn't able to catch a glance at the clock, so I still don't know what time it is, but I'm assuming it's about mid-day based off of how bright the sun is shining through my window.

I'm the first to say something, "I think those old toys I found have something to do with it. They got me thinking back to my childhood a bit, and Greg also told me a story about them."

"What toys?"

I sit up, pointing over to the shoe boxes, which I've stacked up against the side of my dresser. He removes himself from the bed in order to go look at them. He opens the first box and pulls out a few of the items.

"Why do you still have these?" He asks, holding up a multi-coloured stuffed cat and a black and green monster truck.

"I guess someone packed them up and put them in the back of the closet, and we just forgot about them. I found them within one of the first few days that I returned."

"You said that Greg told you a story about these toys. Can I hear it?" He's trying to get one of the wheels to start rolling again on a small blue car, while still gripping another toy in his fist.

"He just told me that my interest in the toys differed quite frequently." I get out of the bed as well, not letting my joints click until I sit criss-crossed down next to him. I pick up one of the army men out of the box, and then an old lip-gloss dispenser. "He said that I'd go from playing with the girly toys," I shake around the dispenser a bit, "to playing with the masculine toys," I shake the army man, "in mere hours. And sometimes," I put the two toys in one hand, "I'd lay with both kinds at the same time. It was weird. It was like I didn't understand why there should be an expected difference between the genders."

Harry keeps shuffling through the boxes, finding the strange mixtures of toys and putting together little scenarios of how I could have used both kinds in the same story. He finds the male doll with the dress on it, and plays around with the arms and legs of the figure. "I'm surprised the dress didn't rip."

"It almost did, see." I point to the stretched seams. "But, I guess, I didn't care. I just wanted him to wear a dress."

"I just can't see your parents getting you toys like this. I mean, after seeing them call you when we first met, well." He drops the toy back into the box. "I'm guessing they weren't too happy with the Nicolette side of you?"

I look down at the toys, helping him put them all back into the boxes. "Yeah, they were pissed. They're actually the reason why I left. They kept telling me that I wasn't a girl, and that boys aren't supposed to dance like I do. I planned to prove to them that I'm not a boy. Now," We close the boxes and stack them back up against the dresser. I slump my shoulders a bit after we finish, my left foot falling asleep under my weight pushing on it. "I'm not so sure I did that. I'm not even sure I proved myself that, either."

"What does that mean?"

We both stand up and head back to my bed, sitting on the edge of it instead of laying back down. "I... I don't even know. I've always told myself that I'm a female. I'm a girl that was born as a boy, and I felt the need to prove that. But, honestly, I don't even know if I'm a girl anymore. I don't feel like a girl all the time. Some days, I feel like a girl. And some days, I just... don't."

He looks like he's about to say something, but he's not sure how to word it. "So, you think - you thought - you were transgender. You thought you were a female born as the wrong gender... but now, you think that's not all it? That there's something that makes you sometimes feel like a girl, and sometimes feel like a boy?"

"Yeah. I-I think. It's not all that recent, though. I've had these feelings before. Remember when I randomly called Greg that one time at your house? There's an instance. It's like... I don't know. It's strange."

"Did you have these feelings often?"

"I-I did, but I always disregarded them. It was like... like I was so busy proving to myself that I'm a girl, that I didn't even notice the moments where I didn't feel like one."

"Isn't there a term for that? I mean, I know there are people who don't have an identified gender, but they do feel like they're a girl or a boy, but it alternates. Have you heard of that?"

I think about it for a moment. "I'm sure there is something that exists like that, but is that really what I am? Maybe I'm just confused because I've returned home so suddenly."

"But you said you've felt like this before, even away from home. Even when you tried to disregard it, there were still instances where it broke through." I stay quiet. "We could look it up."

"And what would we look up, Harry? 'I feel like a girl and a guy sometimes'? Where's that going to get us?" I snap out.

"Hey, it was just a suggestion. Would you rather continue on not knowing anything about it, or at least look for something that describes you in the best way? Because you can't keep going on and saying your 'transgender', because you aren't. You're something, we just don't know what it is yet."

Instead of saying anything, I just nod my head. He pulls his phone out from his pocket and types something in. I'm not sure what he searched, but it must have been successful, since he begins to read something out to me.

"Bi-gender - someone who identifies as two separate genders." He continues to read on, and calls out something else after a few moments, "Gender-fluid - a gender that changes, or is fluid." I wait a bit longer for him to call something else, but he locks his phone again after a minute or two. "Those seem like the two most fitting."

"Yeah, but I identify as both male and female, but they change. What do you think I am?"

He shrugs; I drop my body back onto the bed. My head hits the mattress harshly, and he laughs when I groan out.


	27. Figuring Out

Harry drops hints over the next week that he would like me to come back home with him. He mentioned it once on the first day he arrived, and over time, he had referenced it more and more. He never directly came around and asked me if I'd like to go with him, and I managed to keep the mood light by acting oblivious.

"My mum will probably want to meet you. I mean, I don't tell her about many of my relationships because I never really think they'd be serious enough to explain."

"Have you mentioned me?" I asked while dusting off some fluff that's landed on my jeans over time. We're going out tonight; Harry refused to tell me what we were doing, but he told me that I'd like it. Based off the faces he's made at the clothes I've gone through, I have a good idea that we aren't going to be doing anything fancy or spectacular. I'm happy that's something that I got through to him that I don't really care for overly romantic plans.

"Of course I have. Any time I talked on the phone to her, or when I went back home to see everyone after the season ended, I'd talk about you." Harry goes quiet for a second. "Actually, I think I annoyed them. Gem told me that I'm whipped."

"I kinda agree with her. Luckily for you, though, I'm not afraid to admit that I'm slightly whipped as well."

Harry is chuckling, "Yeah, but at least you're not that obvious about it. When I first got here, your parents barely knew who I was."

"It's proved to be quite hard to talk to them about personal ideas. With, well, y'know." I turn around and hold up a black 'System Of A Down' shirt to my chest. I didn't do it to get his opinion - I actually did it to see if it still fit me - but he nodded anyway. "Still, I'd say we're pretty much on the same page when it comes to how invested we are in this relationship."

"I'm taking that as a compliment, then. You better not come back later tonight and tell me that you were being sarcastic, because you have no idea how good it feels to hear that from someone you care so much about."

I let that to be the last thing that's said, because I'm not really sure how I'd be able to reply to that. He sounds so sincere and it makes my heart ache a little bit.

He goes along with my silence, probably playing around with his phone while I get changed. He's too respectable to look, even though I don't care if he does anymore.

After a few minutes of looking in a mirror and playing around with my hair - it's laying flat and I plan to keep it that way, so it doesn't matter if I mess with it - I finally turn around to face him. He's gotten off his phone and I catch him staring at me. He doesn't seem embarrassed even when I call him out on it. Instead, he motions me over to his side. I sit down next to him, moving his phone so I can fit closer to him.

"I'm serious about my mum, though. She seemed so interested when I spoke of you, and she even asked me when you two could meet."

"Does she even know what I look like? Now that I've realised I'm... confused, some things you said may not apply anymore."

"I showed her pictures and videos from the show. She said you were very beautiful." He smiles at me and grabs my hand. He holds onto it in my lap. "And, Ni, just because I thought you were a girl, I didn't tell her things that are revolved around that. I told her that you're a sweet person with a unique personality. I talked about you; who you are as a person, your likes and dislikes, what you're passionate about and what you couldn't care less about. Your gender had nothing to do with it."

I look down at our hands. My hand has unconsciously wrapped around his thumb that rests in the palm of my hand, and his index finger is running across my knuckles.

"How do you think she'll react when she finds out?"

"React to what?"

"Me being the way I am."

"Ni, honestly, you don't need to freak out about that. Just because you're having trouble figuring out what you are, doesn't mean you're any different from how you usually are. Your personality doesn't change whether you feel like a boy or you feel like a girl."

I leave the conversation at that. I'm flattered by what he said, and I'm not sure how I was supposed to reply.

_-_-_

Harry and I do eventually go back to his home together. He finally got the hint that I was just playing around with him. I had always been planning on going back home with him. He just seemed so adamant on getting me to go, I couldn't help myself to use his naivety against him a little.

"So, who all am I meeting when we arrive?" I ask on the ride from the airport. We have quite a long drive, since we flew to London instead of Manchester.

"My mum and my step-dad will probably greet us at the front door when we first arrive. I'm not sure if Gemma will be there as well, so I don't know if you'll meet her today or sometime later, along with my dad." He takes one hand off the steering wheel and grabs my hand, resting our entwined hands on the console.

We both go quiet for a few minutes, just comforted by the sound of the rain splattering down on the windshield.

"Hey, Ni? Can I ask you something?" Harry's voice is quite timid, and it makes me worried. He's usually always confident around me.

"Yeah, sure."

"Uhm, I don't want to offend you, because I know you're gonna be the same no matter how you feel each day, but, well, I'm just curious." He rambles a bit.

"Just ask me, Harry."

"Okay, okay. Well, uhm... how am I supposed to know what to call you?"

I look at him for a second, confused. "What?"

"If you go back and forth between feeling like a girl and feeling like a boy, how am I supposed to know? Would you tell me? Would I be able to figure it out? And, when that does happen, what would you want me to call you if I can't figure it out? I don't want to accidentally call you Nicolette when you don't feel... like Nicolette? Same with Niall; I don't want to call you Niall if you feel like Nicolette." He goes quiet and I wait a second just to make sure he's finished. "I know it's awkward and sounds stupid, but it's been on my mind since you told me and, well, I just don't want to mess anything up."

"Harry, calm down. Pay attention to the road, alright? And listen," I take a breath, which we both understand as a way of saying that my explanation may go on and become quite rambly very quickly. "First off, I won't be offended if you call me by the wrong name or you call me a she when I feel like a he, and vice versa. I know it can be confusing; hell, even I'm confused about it. It's gonna take a lot of time to get used to it. Don't beat yourself up if you can't tell if I feel like a girl or boy. Honestly, I think it would be good if you can't tell, because that means I'm not changing myself just depending on which gender I feel like at the moment."

"But if I were to tell other people about you, what words would I use to describe you?"

"Just use words like they or them, I don't know. Trust me, Harry, I'm as lost as you when it comes to this. Just, please, don't treat me differently based on what gender I feel like."

"I won't do that, you know that."

Again, we only have the sound of the rain to fill the silence that follows our conversation. I have a question lingering in my head, but I don't know if I should ask him after a serious conversation like we just had. Sadly, my curiously gets the best of me, "What does this mean for your sexuality, then?"

"Hmm?"

"Not everyone is accepting when they find out that their partner was lying to them about their gender." I can't help but snap out, my underlying bitterness for my parents arising slightly.

"Honestly, Ni? I have never known what my sexuality was. Maybe I'm biromantic, but I've never really cared much for gender anyway, and then I thought I was panromantic. Then I kinda went through a phase where I couldn't see myself being with anyone, and that brought up aromanticism. And then on the 'sex' part of sexuality, that's a loose case as well, since I had a fling at one point where I was with two or three different people and I liked it, and I thought I was polyamorous, and again, since I'm sexually attracted to all genders, that made me think like I was pansexual. It's a mess."

I laugh a bit, finding it humourous. "Seems like we're both a mess, with me having no idea what gender I am or what term to use, and you with your sexuality."

"Yeah, I guess we are." He chuckes. "We're both messes, but at least we can figure it out together."

My smile for a second as I try to be as serious as I can be, "That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

Only, I wasn't able to keep a straight face, and ended up smiling halfway through the sentence. He smiles innocently; I punch him in the arm and roll my eyes, telling him to keep his eyes on the road.

_-_-_

Harry was right about his mum greeting us when we first pull up. She's not standing outside, as it's still raining, but she is peeking out through the window.

When Harry gets out of the car, his mum exits through the front door with an umbrella. She's wearing what looks to be her pyjamas and some slippers on her feet. Harry greets her with a hug and takes the umbrella from her, leading her back to the door so she can go back inside. She does, but she keeps looking through the window. Harry comes over to my side of the car. I've already opened the door and stepped out, and he closes it shut right as I'm putting my hand out to do it myself. "You should've stayed in the car, I would have come and got you so you didn't have to get wet."

I shrug and let him lead me to the front door, even though I told him I'd help him with the little bit of luggage we have. Considering most of the luggage is mine anyway, I should carry it. He walks back to the car with the umbrella and grabs everything out from the boot.

"It's so nice to meet you, Nicolette. It's been awhile since Harry's brought anyone home, let alone talk about them so willingly." Anne says to me, taking my hand and shaking it. Her hands are smooth, unlike mine, which have been tarnished by years of playing guitar and picking at the skin on the tips of my fingers and palms of my hands. I grip her hand the same way that she's doing to mine, smiling. "I wish you two would have arrived earlier so we could've had a nice home-cooked meal together. Still, I'm happy you're here."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Anne." Harry told me to call her by her first name right away, because he knows that she will request for me to call her that eventually.

Harry comes in through the door with the bags. I take mine from his hands so he can shake out the umbrella and close it up. After he does so, he runs his hand through his hair to let some of water out of it. "Thanks, Ni." He says when he takes the bag back out of my hands. I roll my eyes. "Have you two introduced yourself, or am I gonna have to do it?"

"No, Harry, we got that over and done with. Now, since it's a bit late and I didn't have anything planned passed supper, you two are free to stay up if you'd like. I'm kind of tired, so I'll leave you to your own devices." That explains why she was already wearing her pajamas. "I'll see you two in the morning. It was nice to meet you, again, Nicolette." She hugs Harry for a few seconds and kisses him on the cheek before turning away to walk up the stairs.

Harry looks at me and whispers, "Do you want to tell her about everything tomorrow, so she isn't calling you by the wrong name?"

I shake my head, "I don't want to bombard her with information like that so soon after meeting me. We have a few days; maybe she'll catch on. If she doesn't, then we can tell her."

"I just don't want her to continue to call you Nicolette if it doesn't make you comfortable." He sighs and wraps his arms around my lower back. My arms reach up to rest in his nape, playing with a few of the straightened pieces of hair that got caught in the rain's crossfire.

"As I told you in the car, it's okay if people refer to me as the wrong thing. My parents have been doing it my entire life." I don't mean to bring them up like this, and I feel kind of bad when his face falls. Sadly, I think that's something that will always be prominent in my life. Thinking back on it, if my parents had just accepted me, I probably never would have even stopped myself from getting an official transition. I'm glad I didn't, with all the shit that's going on now.

"I don't want you to be treated like that anymore, Ni. I want you to be who you are without having to face so many repercussions."

"Sadly, Harry, society hasn't advanced enough to allow that. But, there's nothing I can do as a single person, so I might as well just grit my teeth and bare through it. Hopefully - even if it's years and years after I've died - everyone will be accepted no matter who or what they are. Humans just aren't too accepting of change."

We stand there like that for a little longer; my hands resting on the back of the neck, and his hands rubbing over my hips. He leans down and kisses me on the lips, waiting a few seconds after I've kissed him back to reply, "I know I've already gone over-the-top cheesy today, but I just have to say this too: as long as I have you to accept me and me to accept you, I feel like no one else's opinion matters." He smiles lightly, moving his hands back to rest on my lower back, nearly pulling me into a hug.

Before I willingly fall into his arms, though, I look him dead in the eye, move up closer so I can whisper directly in his ear, and say, "You're right, that was incredibly cheesy. Stop it with that shit."

We're both laughing by the time we finally do hug each other, standing in each other's arms and tuning everything out; the creak of the house settling, the rain pitter-patting on the windows, and the small squeak of Anne, who still stands at the top of the stairs, watching us embrace.


	28. Hollywood

"Hm, fancy seeing your face." Harry teases me as he walks up to where I stand at the gate.

"It seems like I just can't get away from you for too long. Definitely not my choice." I say, pushing him away. Our distance is kept only for a split second, as he steps back into my personal space and wraps his arms around me.

"I missed you." He kisses my head and I can barely feel it through my quiffed hair.

I hug him back, pressing my face into his shoulder. My actions don't match my words, as I say, "We were only apart for three weeks! How could you have missed me that much in such a short period of time?"

His arms tighten around me. "What can I say; I must be addicted."

I'm the one that has to pull away, and I roll my eyes at his ridiculously over exaggerated version of adoration that he has in his eyes and on his face. "That is the single, most cheesiest line I've ever heard you say."

"I could have sworn you said that to me before, many times."

"You just get cheesier and cheesier. How do you do it?" He scoffs, pretending to my hurt. "It's like you soak up Rom-Com scripts like a fucking sponge."

"You caught me red-handed."

We continue to spew fake insults at each other; all in good fun, though. This is the most eventful thing we've done in the last few months, but there's no point of blowing it out of proportion.

Honestly, ever since Harry and I went to visit his family that first time, our lives have toned down a lot since then. He planned on spending the rest of his break to just spend with his family, and that's exactly what happened, just with me tagging along. Of course, I went back home a few times to see my family, mostly Greg, and Harry would come with me. It was during that time that I spoke to my parents about returning to Los Angeles. They weren't too happy about me wanting to leave so soon after returning, but I have a feeling they finally started to understand how much dancing means to me. And, although they aren't completely okay with me being "half-girl" as they call it, they were happy to at least see the old version of me that they were used to.

It's understandable to me now as to why they reacted the way they did; they just didn't want to lose their son. They didn't want me to change into this person that they couldn't understand. When they saw how I was after I first returned - at that point I still identified as a female - they must have seen extreme similarities between young, "boy" version of me and the person I am now. I didn't change in that regard, and that's my own fault for trying to prove to them that I was a girl by doing stereotypically girlish things.

They allowed me to leave again, and told me that they wouldn't try to chase me down again. I appreciate them.

Harry was by my side through everything. He was constantly giving me support, and he even helped me in convincing my parents to let me go back.

Actually, the only time that Harry and I were ever really apart for an extended period of time, was over the last few weeks. We agreed that we would need a bit of a break from each other before we returned to LA, which led me to staying home in Mullingar, and Harry returning to Cheshire. We've only just seen each other again since we've parted at the beginning of January.

Harry and I are currently walking to his car, hand-in-hand, in the warm, California weather.

"It's strange to be somewhere to warm, after months of cold and rain." I say, immediately regretting my decision to wear long sleeves on the plane. The heat didn't reach me until we finally landed.

"It's even weirder that it's so warm in the winter here."

"Oh yeah, but winter is the only season that I actually like in LA." We both enter the car and I immediately go to plug my phone into the car's console.

He doesn't notice me doing so. "Why?"

"Because every other season here is too hot to enjoy. Trust me, I came here for the first time during the summer, and all my clothes that I brought had to be replaced because it was so fucking hot."

"Going from dark and rainy Ireland to bright and sunny California is definitely something to trip you up a bit." I nod along, looking for a good song to play on my phone. "No, don't you dare, I'm not listening to anymore of your metal crap. I'm sorry, but I still can't stand it."

"I actually wasn't planning on playing any metal, but you just gave me a good idea. Thanks." I send him a devilish smile and continue to scroll through my songs.

"Please, God, no. I'm begging you." I finally decide on a good song to play that will trip him up when he hears it.

The beginning notes start, and his scrunched face contorts into one of content. I smile at him, "You think you can handle this, darling?" I taunt him. "I can always change it if you don't like it."

"No! Don't change it, please." His eyes scan me. "I like this one."

"Good, because I wasn't planning on changing it."

He shakes his head slightly and focuses fully back on the road. "You're a minx."

"That I am, thank you for noticing."

"And you, you know my love can hold you down."

I sing along to the lyrics, realising how ironic those words are to our relationship. I've never really thought about it before; how Harry and I have both been able to center our attention on each other, how we've been able to learn so much about each other just through our movements, how we've learned how to operate with each other like second nature.

Over the months that we were together, I've learned so much about Harry. I've learned that he's always been an extremely caring person, I've learned that he loves his family more than anything, I've learned that he's headstrong about so much and pure determination and drive is what lead him to success, I've learned that he will always stick by the people he loves, I've learned that he's actually really sensitive and has a lot of buried insecurities, that most people overlook because he seems so serious and unaffected by anything. I've learned that his shell is thin, and he'll let nearly anyone in, which is what has led him to have so many friends, but also what has led him to heartbreak and hurt.

I'm hoping he learned a lot about me, as well, but I'm sure he must have had a much tougher time, since my shell is thick, much thicker than his.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Harry asks me after we've been on the road for a few minutes.

"You've just been driving about aimlessly without actually knowing where we're going?" I ask. He shakes his head sheepishly. "Alright well, since you don't seem to have any ideas, how about Louis'? I want to see how that bastard has been holding up since I left. Plus, I want to congratulate him, in person, for winning The Mirror Ball last season. He's never won before."

"Where does he live?" Harry asks, stopping at a red light.

"If you'd slow down, I'd be able to point down the street to you. I know the area we're in, and it's not too far."

"Okay, just tell me if I make a wrong turn." He tells me, pressing down on the gas pedal again when the light changes.

"Continue going straight for a few lights. I'm gonna find another song to play." I grab my phone from where it's resting in the console. We haven't tampered with the music since I initially started it, since all the songs that came up next were good as well. It's only now that I've decided to change it since a song that I was obsessed with ages ago, but I don't like too much anymore, comes on.

I scroll through a few more music choices, glancing up at the road signs every few seconds to make sure Harry doesn't go too far. Whatever song I choose won't really matter, as we're only a minute or two away from his street.

I finally choose something, turning the volume down a bit so I can concentrate on the road signs without singing along. After a minute, I point toward an upcoming street and tell Harry to turn there.

It only takes us a minute to arrive at Louis' house. I recognise his car in the drive-way, but another car is there that I don't recognise. Because there are two cars in the drive-way, Harry has to park on the side of the road. We shouldn't be too long, so I'm not too worried that something or someone will come by and mess with his car.

Apparently, Harry doesn't feel the same way. "If someone drives by and hits my car, or I get a ticket, I will hurt you." I know his threat isn't serious, so I just end up laughing at him.

"I don't see a 'no parking' sign around here, so we're fine. And, I promise, no one will mess with your car in this neighbourhood. Overly narcissistic people with overly expensive cars are rampant in this area; everyone either has a car like yours, or one that's better."

Harry shakes my head and pulls the keys from the ignition. "One thing I didn't miss was your sass."

"What did you miss, then? Because, from what I can recall, most of our conversations only ever consisted of sassy and facetious remarks." I elbow him in the ribs lightly, having to reach way too far over the console to hit him; it would have been easier to punch him.

"Okay, I might have missed it." He lifts his hand up and holds his thumb and index finger a little ways apart. "Only a little."

"Mhm, sure." I shake my head at him, but refrain from rolling my eyes. My parents had pointed out to me how much I did that by keeping a tally in a single day on how many times I did it when I was in their presence. "C'mon."

We head up to Louis' front door, him knocking on the door before I can reach out for the doorbell. I hear footsteps almost immediately, followed by Louis saying something to either himself, or someone else.

When the door opens, Louis is caught by surprise. He nearly closes the door back again, but stops himself from slamming it. He swings it back, staring at me intensely. His eyes flicker over to Harry for a brief second before they're back on me.

He doesn't say anything; instead, he pulls me from my spot on the little step that he calls his porch right into his house. I nearly trip over the threshold but catch myself on the door frame. His arms are around me anyway, so it's not like I would have fallen too far off balance.

"You're such a fucking idiot." He says into my shoulder. "Seriously, I hate you so much."

"Really, because that makes so much sense when you greet me like this." I joke, embracing him. "How ya doing, Lou?"

He pulls back, "I hate you."

"You already said that."

"And I'm gonna keep saying it until you get it through your thick skull that you worried the shit out of me." He steps back from me and allows both Harry and I to officially enter his house. The other person that was here happens to be two people; Demi and Liam.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" I greet them. Demi smiles at me.

"Hey, Nic. How was Ireland? I just gotta say, it was strange not having you around at the studio for the rest of the season and during the preparation for the next season." Liam replies.

"It was weird for me as well, but hopefully it won't be like that for much longer." My eyes travel over all of them before I sit down on Louis couch, Harry cautiously sitting down next to me. "I was gonna see if I could get my old job back."

Demi smiles again, eyeing up my hair for a second before meeting my eyes again. "I'm sure you'll get it; even I noticed a change at the studio within the last week of the season, and I wasn't even there that often!"

Louis' eyes flash from each person before trying to interrupt. "Hey--"

"I'm not expecting to be put right back into the show again, since they've probably already set up the pairs for next season, but hopefully I'll be able to do something."

Louis tries again, "Ya know, this is great and all--"

"And, by the way, Demi, congratulations for winning Mirror Ball last season. I sent Louis a message after you first won, but I'm not sure if he passed on the message." I smirk at Louis. He knows I only cut him off again to annoy him. "Congrats, to both of you."

"With all that out of the way, can I fucking speak now?" Louis asks, glaring at me when I open my mouth again. "Nic doesn't get a say in this. So, is everyone else good with me talking?" He doesn't even pause to let anyone answer. "Good. Now, Nic, can you please explain what the hell happened in the last few days you were there? I knew I should have warned you about what would happen if you dated a Star; I talked with Peta about it but I should have said something when I noticed you two getting close."

He makes a move to continue talking, but I interrupt him while he's taking a breath. "Louis, I wasn't fired because of Harry and I's relationship."

He stops sharp, his face contorting into one of slight anger. "What? So they lied to us? But, why would they punish me for dating a Star, but not you?"

"I have no idea, Louis, and I'm sorry you had to go through whatever you did in order to keep your job. But, no, my relationship with Harry wasn't the primary reason I was fired. It might have contributed subsequently, but it wasn't the initially reason that I was told about."

I go on to tell everyone in the room what had happened with my parents, including my confusion about my gender, which does bring up some questions from Demi and Liam. I answer all of them to the best of my abilities, but it's when Liam asks, "So, what gender are you, then?" that it gets a bit confusing. I know this is all new for them - even Louis, although I already told him about me being transgender at the beginning of the season - and I get why they don't understand right away.

"Uhm, I don't know yet. We've narrowed it down to either being bi-gender, or gender-fluid. I know it's confusing, I'm sorry." I explain the best I can. I look to Harry for help.

"I'd say, you should identify Ni as whatever she tells you she feels is the right one that day. Today, she feels like a girl," he looks to me for confirmation. I nod. "so you can use pronouns like 'she' and 'her' and everything."

"But it's okay if you get confused. If you refer to me as a girl and I feel like a boy, I won't snap out. You don't need to be afraid of me. Trust me, I'm just as confused about this as you are."

The room goes silent and I kinda wish they still had questions so it wasn't so awkward.

"Hey, as long as you all treat me the same way you've always been treating me, I'll be fine." I finally say, quite nervously, and Harry takes my hand into his. It's like he knows when I need help to calm down.

Liam and Demi smile at me, nodding. I look over to Louis, hopeful, with slight fear that he won't accept this. I know how strange it can be for someone to have to deal with this being thrown at them so suddenly. I'm sure I definitely made his world flip when I told him I was transgender a few months ago, and now this?

"Hey, don't look at me all vulnerable and shit. You seriously think I don't accept you?" He asks, and I can't tell if he's joking or not. "You're still an idiot, and I still kinda hate you for never explaining why you got fired, until now, but I could never drop you. You're still my best friend."

And that acceptance almost feels as good as it did when Greg had said his own variation of that, all those years ago.


	29. Epilogue

We ended up staying at Louis' a bit longer, telling each other stories of what we did after I left. Apparently Louis got in cahoots with Derek a bit more, as Derek was another one of my close friends at the studio. I made fun of them for bonding over my absence. Louis was embarrassed but didn't deny it.

Liam also told me that he wishes he had gotten a bit closer to me during season, as with anyone else, because it was only his first season, and no one else had really started dancing just this season. We've gotten a few new people over the years, but Liam was the most recent to join. "You guys are like a family at the studio, and I love that. I guess I was just too nervous that I would fail, so I didn't try to join in on all the fun. I focused too much on the competitive aspects."

"You were just a bit unlucky, Liam. Nic and I joined during the same season, so we were given a bit of an advantage. We were both new to everything and, I guess, we kinda just bonded over our confusion and fear." Louis tells him. "We were the same as you were, is what I'm trying to say."

I start after Louis, "It's easy to get caught up in the numbers and competition when you first start out; we all went through it. But, what I learned pretty quickly, is that there is a very slim chance that you will win, or even get far, during your first season. People that have watched the show for a long time usually have favourite dancers." I pause and look over to Harry. He smiles at me. "I hope you had fun, though. The first season is the only time where you're completely new so you're given a bit of leeway when you mess something up."

"That treatment sometime extends into the following season, especially if someone doesn't make any experienced friends that can show them the ropes. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get that."

"Yeah," I smile devilishly. "Then you can fuck shit up like I did and get no penalty."

Louis scoffs. "Don't listen to her. Have you seen her track record? I'm surprised she wasn't fired for setting fire to someone's hair."

"That was a complete accident!" Liam looks at me questioningly. "Never trust me around curling irons."

"I'm so happy my hair is naturally curly." Harry says, faking the cross that many Christians do in church.

"You did it backwards. It's that shoulder first." I point to the shoulder that he touched last. "And your hair isn't that curly anymore. It's grown so long, it's more wavy than it is curly."

Louis leans over to Harry, whispering loud enough so everyone in the room can hear him. "Don't let her near you when you're sleeping."

Harry looks back at me. I pull a strange face of faux mischief, and he puts on a stereotypically horrified expression. We all laugh, the sounds mixing among each other and making the room much louder than it once was.

It's nice; sitting here with my friends, old and new, and my boyfriend, just messing about and having a pleasant time. It's been quite a while since I've spent time like this with more than one person. Even though I did have some good moments with my parents, that's nothing compared to spending quality time with the friends I never thought I'd ever see again.

I've missed it. I never realized how much I've missed it until I was given the chance to experience it again.

It's not until after a few random stories are told, again, that the conversations seem to fizzle out and we don't have much to talk about anymore. Yet, no one shows interest in leaving; not even Louis, even though he probably had plans to do something with Demi and Liam before we interrupted. We've talked right through the expected dinner time, and right until the sun has almost completely disappeared. Only, the time hasn't changed yet so it's still pretty early.

Still, we've been around for hours, when we only planned to stay around for a few minutes. Harry even showed concern about his car getting stolen and I told him we'd be right out. I hope he didn't get mad at me for making us stay around. But even he hasn't shown any desire to go.

"Hey, Nic, where'd ya go? We lost you there for a second." Louis waves his hand rapidly in front of my face. My eyes focus back on the ground where I must have spent the last few minutes staring. I look up at everyone in the room. Liam and Demi are laughing slightly and not really paying attention, so at least that means they didn't ask me something and I completely blanked them. Louis is leaning forward on the couch and holding his arm up to wave, and Harry is resting against the back of the couch we are sitting on together.

"Sorry, I was thinking." I say.

"I bet you're thinking about food. Were you?" Liam asks, still smiling at whatever he was laughing at with Demi.

"Of a sort." I pat my stomach playfully. "You know me; food's always on the mind."

"And dirty thoughts." Harry butts in, smirking at me when I send him a fake glare.

"I thought so, because I've been thinking about food for the last half an hour." Liam smiles sheepishly. "I didn't want to be rude."

"It's fine, Li. You can't offend an Irish person." Louis says and looks at me, pulling that dumb face that he always seems to when he's about mock something about my heritage. "And besides, she's always drunk anyway, so even if she wanted to get offended, she'd be too far gone to be able to land a single hit on you." He says in a horribly stereotypical Irish accent.

I flick him on the eyebrow. "I'm Irish, not a pirate. Open your damn eye."

He laughs and leans back onto the couch with Demi and Liam, the cushions shifting underneath his weight. "See? She doesn't seem offended to me," He continues, still using that stupid voice.

"Yeah, because I'm waiting until later to kill you," I say. Everyone laughs at my dumb joke.

_-_-_

We had all ended up getting dinner together at a new seafood restaurant that was built while I was away. Louis claimed that it was the new best restaurant around, and Liam backed him up on that. I thought it was pretty good, but I don't think Harry was impressed. "Too casual for your overly-expensive cuisine?" I teased him. He defended himself by saying that he wasn't a big fan of fish.

The next stop on Harry and I's little field trip was the Studio, where I would embarrassingly ask for my old job back. As much as I had tried to play off that I didn't care about it yesterday to everyone, Harry and I both know how much my job meant to me. I know that if I'm not able to get even a small position back, then there will really be no way for me to get my old apartment back, or even pay for any reasonably-sized housing. That's one thing I didn't miss about LA; the exorbitant prices for living arrangements here.

It was nearly 8 PM when we arrived at the Studio, but my old boss always came in early and left late, even off season, so I'm not worried that he won't be around and I'll have to come back tomorrow.

"You know what would have been smart?" I ask Harry while looking for the exact corridor that my old boss's office was on. "Calling ahead of time, instead of just walking in."

"Yeah, it is kinda rude to just walk in." Harry looks at the door down the hallway that I'm leading to. He grabs my hand and pulls on me slightly so I'll stop walking. "I think I have an idea to make it less awkward."

"It'll be awkward either way, but go ahead and tell me."

He looks around the hall, as do I. I'm not sure what he's searching for, but I do notice that no one else is in the corridor with us. "Maybe we should just wander a bit. Someone will eventually ask why we're here, and we can tell them that we're looking for your boss's office."

I shake my head, "I don't think that's gonna work, Harry; everyone here knows who I am." I sigh, looking back down the hall at the door. "I'll just knock. There's nothing wrong with showing up suddenly, I just know it's not polite."

"Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come in with you?"

"I'd prefer if you stayed out here; I wouldn't want anymore complications because my relationship with you."

He lowers his head. "Right. Go on, then."

I lean forward slightly and kiss his cheek, waiting for him to look back up at me before smiling and pulling my hand from his. He stays leaning against the wall as I walk the rest of the length of the corridor to my old boss's office.

My knock is light, because if he can hear it, that means he must not be doing anything.

"Come in." I hear him call. I keep myself hidden behind the door until it's completely open, trying to nonchalantly make my entrance more dramatic.

"Nic, what are you doing here?" He asks me.

I sigh, "Hi. Uhm, I'm not usually one to grovel, but it looks like we all changed at least a little bit over the past few months."

I then continue to ramble on for several minutes, asking for my job back and giving reasons as to why I would be helpful. By the end of my rant, he seems interested.

"My previous experiences with this company will really help me with my work, as I already know how things are supposed to work around here." I use as my finishing statement, hoping I've said enough to where he will be convinced.

The tone of his voice gives it away, "Nic, as much as I would like to have you come back to the show, I can't. You had violated your contract, which could have had possible repercussions, but I didn't want to drag this out longer than it needed to be. Any violations that have been made were accounted for over your entire time working here, and many other, less-serious rules had been broken as well. You said you know how things work around here, but that doesn't mean you work in the same fashion. A fine should have been issued due to your violation of the contract and failure to follow all rules, but, as I said, I didn't want to make this into something much bigger than it should be. You were not fined, and you did not face any legal repercussions, but, you are to be punished; which, was the extended removal of you from working for us. I'm sorry, Nicolette."

He motions toward the door, but I ask him another question, "Extended removal? Does that mean I can't ever start working here again, even just as someone for the Troupe?"

"Extended removal means that you will be denied from working for this company for a certain amount of time. When that time ends, you may apply again, but that does not guarantee you will get any sort of position back here."

"And how long does my extended removal go on for?"

"We have not decided yet. Three years, at least." My mouth falls open slightly. "That is the bare minimum, Nicolette. You should have been punished much worse than this, so consider yourself lucky."

He then motions to the door again, officially dismissing me. I get up from the chair that was in front of his desk and walked to the door, grabbing the door handle.

"Good luck, Nicolette." I turn around and smile slightly.

"Thank you, sir."

I close the door behind me and make my way down the corridor slightly. Harry meets me halfway, stopping me from walking past him. I look into his eyes when he lifts my head slightly.

"Well?" He asks. I'm guessing my facial expression is neither happy nor sad; just normal.

"I didn't get my job back." I say. He removes his hand from under my chin and puts it on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ni."

I shrug, not really letting it get to me. "I'll find something else."

_-_-_

Harry took us back to his old house that he stayed in during the season. "You didn't sell it?"

"Nah; I was thinking of permanently living here. Ya know, for when I'm not on tour. It's been a long time coming, really, as I spent a lot of my time here anyway whenever I had a break." He explains, pulling out the key to the front door.

"Go for it, bro. It'll be fun having you here instead of having to fly all the way back to England to see you when you're off tour."

"You know I wouldn't make you do that; but also, maybe this can be a bit of a base for you? I mean, at least until you get back on your feet."

I smile at him, even though I don't think he can see me properly, as it's still dark in the house, and I think he's turned the other way. "Thank you, Harry. I promise, I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can find a place of my own."

He stays quiet, and the only noise in the house is thumping sounds of our feet trudging up the stairs.

We get into his bedroom, where he finally does turn on a lamp so we can see where we are going. I only catch a glimpse of the pristine bed, as he pulls back the covers and sets up the pillows, with two on his side, two on my side, and one that I would sometimes wrap my arms around when we moved away during the night.

He takes most articles of clothing off his body and puts them in the hamper next to the closet. I strip down after him, wearing my briefs and an oversized tank-top. I go onto my side and we both crawl into bed at the same time, him turning off the light after making sure we're both comfortable.

When the lights go out, neither of us actually try to sleep. We moved closer to each other, our arms grazing each other's in the middle of the bed. We're both looking up at the ceiling.

"I've never actually realized how cool it would be to have a skylight right there. It would fit in so well with the aesthetic of the room, and it would make for a nice view."

He turns onto his side so he's facing me and whispers, close to my ear, "We should get that renovated."

"We? Hey, you said I could crash here, you didn't say I had to pay for your home improvement." I joke with him, moving my head so I'm looking at him as well. "It was just a suggestion, anyway."

"You could make that suggestion come true."

"I don't have that kind of money, dude. And besides, it's your house. I'm only here temporarily."

He sighs, "But it doesn't have to be temporary. I was actually... uhm, kinda hoping it would be a permanent arrangement."

"What?" I ask, not actually believing him.

"I was hoping, maybe... if you could possibly... move in with me?" He stumbles over his own words. I go to reply, but he doesn't give me a chance to talk as he continues on. "I know it's soon and we haven't been together for very long, but I know how much you love it here and you were hoping to get your job back at DWTS, but... really, I was selfishly hoping that they turned you down so you could live here, with me, and I could support you, or when I go on tour and you could tag along, if you wanted... I know it's selfish--"

"Harry, will you shut up and let me speak?" Harry goes silent. "I kind of knew that they were going to turn me down. I mean, I broke my contract, and luckily they just fired me instead of charged me a shit-ton of money. And I'm still dating you, so they wouldn't have given it back to me anyway."

"And that means?"

"That means yes, I will move in with you, and join you on any tour if that's what you were wishing. Sure."

I go quiet and wait for him to reply. Instead of saying anything, he pulls me up off the bed so we're both sitting up. His arms wrap around me tightly, and the position is slightly awkward until I turn the bottom half of my body to be in line with his. His hands are rubbing my back and I can feel his dumb smile against the side of my face.

I'm the first to pull away from the embrace and resituate myself so I'm in the position to lie back down. We're only separated for a short time, though, as he pushes me down so my head sinks into the pillow roughly. A gasp escapes me, as I hadn't been expecting the sudden movements, but my mouth is occupied soon after as he leans down and kisses me fully on the lips.

He whispers, "I love you."

Whoa.

I open my eyes when he says that. He's since pulled away slightly, but he's still close enough to where I can feel his breath on my lips.

"Steady on now, Harry. Are you sure about that last statement? Or are you just really excited?" I ask, slightly teasing, but most of what I asked was serious.

I've never had someone say they love me before; no one outside my family. Even when Meghan and I were best friends, we never said that we loved each other.

It might have been because I've never officially been with anyone romantically, but I find it very ironic that the first official relationship I have is also, at this rate, the only one I'll ever have.

"I mean, of course I'm excited, but that's not the reason I said it. Listen and believe me when I say I love you, Nicolette, because I don't fake and lie about my emotions, especially something as serious as love."

I don't really know how to reply. Do I say it back? It should have been obvious that I should, but I don't lie about my feelings either, and saying 'I love you' back would be lie, as I don't actually know what love is, or what it feels like to love someone romantically. Nothing can describe what I feel for Harry; it doesn't seem to match the stereotypical definitions of love. So, really, how am I supposed to tell if it's love or not, if I can't describe what I'm feeling in the first place?

He continues on, "I've known about my love for you for several months now, but I was never sure if what I felt was real, so I refrained from saying anything to you in case it wasn't true. But after today, being able to see you in every light - with your friends, at your work, alone with me - it's made me see that I feel the same way about you in any circumstance. Whether you're teasing me, or rocking out to your favourite song, or listening to your friends tell goofy stories, or sitting here in silence and looking at the ceiling, I felt the same way about you every time."

I stay silent for a minute more, evaluating his definition of love. If that's what love is to him - being able to feel a strong, unexplainable feeling for someone no matter the time of day, no matter what you're doing, no matter how brief your time is together - than, I'm guessing, what I'm feeling is love as well.

I lean up and kiss him, pushing him back down on the bed, as I know his arms must be getting tired after holding himself up over my for that extended period of time. When I move back, I can see a smile form on his face.

"I love you, too." I finally answer. He doesn't say anything about it, but his smile does grow bigger than it was before. We both turn back onto our backs, looking up at the ceiling again.

My mind drifts to the Studio. I think back on all the dances Harry and I gotten there, how many times Harry had fallen, how many times we we're being stereotypically couple-like before we even got together.

"Those fuckers are sure going to miss me." I call out randomly, surprising even myself. He laughs loudly, rolling back over on his side so he's facing me again. I roll over as well, our eyes meeting.

"Yup, I love you even when you say stuff like that."

End.


End file.
